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WAYSIDE POEMS. 



REV. J. BYINGTON SMITH, D. D. 
Author of "Bible Tf,achin(;s From Nature", Etc. 



BOSTON 



ko \ 



JAMES H. EARLE, Publisher 

187 washington street 

i8q2 



Copyright, 1892 
By Tames H. Earle 



All rights reserved 



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INTRODUCTION. 



WAYSIDE POEMS. 

The wide expanse its harvests yields, 
Though some glean corners of the fields, 

And join the harvest song; 
The gardens fragrant are of flowers, 
Which deck the overhanging bovvers, 

And strew the paths along. 

Neglected corners sometimes grow 
The heads of grain, where we may go 

And glean a goodly sheaf ; 
And in by-paths and by way-side. 
Are flowers blooming in their pride, 

As if of flowers chief. 

In open fields where poets throng 
They gather there their sheaves of song, 

Which coming ages sing ; 
But in the corners now and then 
Some gleaners of a lesser kin 

Some simple sheaf may bring. 

The flowers which in gardens bloom 
Disperse the otherwise dark gloom. 

Make all around seem gay ; 
But flowers which sometimes we meet 
As lovely bloom just at our feet 

Along the common way. 

In fields and gardens rich and fair 
The poet gathers garlands rare ; 

And though no garlands mine, 
Some simple flower may be brought 
From way-side, when by them unsought, 

Some garland to entwine. 



PROLOGUE. 



CAGE THE SINGER, NOT THE SONG 

The bird, when caged, will sweetly sing, 

As when it soared on joyous wing. 

And joined the choral melodies 

With sweet resoundings through the skies. 

You may the l>ird encage meanwhile, 

Subject it to a durance vile; 

And yet 'twill blithesome notes prolong, 

You cage the singer, not the song. 

No bars of cage can song confine. 
For like the truth is song divine, 
And none can bars or fetters find 
Which either truth or song can bind. 
In grove or cage, on land or sea. 
As free as air song floats as free. 
The song the singer outlives long. 
You cage the singer, not the song. 

The song-birds sing in souls of some, 

To souls of others never come ; 

And soul where song is never heard 

Is like the cage without the bird. 

But where within their notes they raise, 

Their life becomes a psalm of praise. 

E'en though encaged, sing sweet and strong, 

You cage the singer, not the song 

Birds sing within the prison cell 
Where sickness, want and sorrow dwell; 
When you admit them anywhere 
They sing their songs of gladness there. 
And in the soul these songs abide. 
Though cage and singer cast aside ; 
From soul to soul they pass along. 
You cage the smger not the song. 



DEDICATION. 



TO E. E. EDWARDS SMITH 

WHOSE APPRECIATION OF EVERYTHING BEAUTIFUL AND 
GOOD HAS BEEN 

AN INXENTIVE AND INSPIRATION TO ALL OF MV BEST THOUGHTS ANr 
DEEDS, IS THIS VOLUME 

AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 

BY THE AUTHOR 



CONTENTS. 



DEDICA TION. 



IN TROD UC TION. 
Wayside Poems. 

PROLOGUE. 
Cage the Singer, not the Song. 

RELIGIOUS. 

Let there be Light. 
The Word of God a Sun. 
The Chrysalis. 
Wings. 

The " Impossible." 
Resign the Helm to God. 
Rich becoming Poor. . 
Christ as Saviour. 
Abiding Love. 
Smitten Rocks. . 
The Rock that Bears. 
It Lifteth me. 



14 

15 
16 

17 

18 
20 
2^ 
22 



6 CONTENTS 










Seeing the Invisible 23 


The Arms of My Saviour. . 








25 


Take me by the Hand. 








25 


The Hand that Lifts Me. . 








26 


The Lamb in the Midst of the Throne 








27 


In my Hammock. 








28 


The upUfted Vision. . 








29 


Out of the Depths. . 








30 


The Scarlet Line in the Window. 








32 


Shadows 








33 


The Storm. .... 








34 


Peace be Still 








35 


The Bow of Promise. 








37 


The Promise Paved Way. . 








37 


Shoes of Iron and Brass. . 








38 


Pathway of Stars. 








39 


The Reward of Faith. 








41 


"Under the Shadow of His Wings.'' 








42 


"Uphold me, Spirit Free." 








43 


"The Wings of a Dove." . 








44 


Torch Bearers. .... 








45 


"The Brook in the Way." . 








46 


The best I Can 








47 


Sowing and Reaping. . 








49 


The Rising not the Setting Sun. 








' 51 


Angel Visitants 








52 


"The Angel in the Sun." . 








54 


The Clouds God's Chariot. 








55 


Consecrated Living. . 








56 


"Come up Hither." . . . _ 








57 


Sky-lark Song 








58 


The True Light. 








59 


Christmas Morn. 








61 


Christmas Y. M. C. A. 








62 


The Bridge of Sunset. 








63 





CONTENTS 








7 


TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. 


My Shepherd 67 


The Lord as Shepherd. 












68 


Content. 












70 


Repose. 














71 


Contemplation. . 














72 


Restoration. 














TS 


Guidance. . 














74 


The Dark Valley. 














75 


Abundant Provision. 














76 


Anointing. . 














11 


Superaboundings. 














78 


UnfaiHng Supplies. 














79 


Home. 














80 



M ISC ELLA NE O US. 



The Birth of Music. . 

What Summer Breezes Say. 

The Violin, its Origin. 

Winged Feet. 

Mountain Paths of Life. 

Content. 

The Angel of the Storm. 

Sunshine. . 

Farther from Thee. 

Uncover the Head. 

The most-read Book. . 

Starting what he Could not Stop 

Cradle Song. 

The Boot-black. . 

What Clams Teach. . 

The Whiskey Made him Sick. 

Time's Chariot. . 



S4 
86 

87 
88 
90 

91 
92 

94 

95 
96 

99 
100 

lOI 

104 
108 
109 



CONTENTS. 



SPECIAL OCCASIONS. 

On the Death of a Pastor 112 

To my Mother — Eightieth Birthday. . . . 113 

To Miss Jessie Couthoui. . . . . . . 115 

Golden Wedding 117 

G. A. R. Flag Presentation to the Public Schools. . 119 

Welcome Poem. National Division S. of T. . . 122 

The Isle of Friendship. . . . . . . 127 

Schools of the Old and Coming Time. . . . 134 

Fourth of July, Sing Sing Prison 144 

Decoration Day. . 151 



WAYSIDE POEMS. 



RELIGIOUS. 



''LET THERE BE LIGHT." 

WHEN earth was but young, as on nothing 
it hung, 
And darkness pervaded the deep, 
No glimmering star sent its beams from afar, 
No sun lit the way it should keep. 

Then high on His throne, Jehovah alone 
Did utter it, "Let there be light ;" 

Through gates of the morn, the Day King was 
born, 
And morning stars sang at the sight. 

Now bright to the world is the banner unfurled 

Of Him who is ruler on high, 
And listening, one hears the sweet music of 
spheres. 

As wheeling their way through the sky. 



10 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Oh, who can portray night fleeing away, 

A world being flooded with light, 
The veil is drawn by, darkly shrouding the 
sky, 

And noon blazing full on the night. 

Than that natal morn, more dark and forlorn 
Is the moral night shutting us in ; 

Man, fitted to be ever happy and free. 
In chaos of darkness and sin. 

But Bethlehem's Star, has been shining afar. 

At midnight illuming the sky. 
And brighter its beams, as on Calvary seen, 

When veil rends in twain from on high. 

This sun pours its rays in meridian blaze, 

And moral night hastens away, 
With rays all divine then forever shall shine. 

The light of a glorious day. 



THE WORD OF GOD A SUN. 

HTHE word of God, a noon-day sun, 
^ Beyond the stars its course begun, 
And thrown into the world's dark night, 
Has lighted fires on mountain height. 
To signal from this earthly clod 
The far eternal hills of God. 



THE CHRYSALIS. 11 

On beacon heights its ivatch-fires glow, 
To hills and valleys far below ; 
Its camp-fires blaze against the sky, 
Where human progress passes by ; 
Its headland light is far unfurled. 
It is the head-ligJit of the world. 

It lights the torch by which we go 
Through dungeons dark, and haunts of 

woe ; 
It shows the footsteps they have trod 
Who found the pathway back to God ; 
A lamp to guide the feet aright, 
And light to make the pathway bright. 

New light breaks forth from age to age, 
New glories gild the sacred page, 
When with true hearts we come to learn. 
And with the spirit to discern ; 
When, opening shutters, we begin 
To let more light come streaming in. 



THE CHRYSALIS. 

ONE day a chrysalis was found 
Suspended to a leaf ; 
A little worm forth from the ground 

Whose earthly life was brief, 
A tiny shroud itself had made 
And in its grave itself had laid. 



12 • WAYSIDE POEMS. 

We passed again and there a shell 

Deserted, empty lay, 
And this was all there left to tell 

Of what we saw that day ; 
The creeping worm which seemed to die 
Emerged with wings of butterfly. 

Thus, it is lost, a creeping thing. 
Into the grave's dark night ; 

But it from thence on gorgeous wing 
Emerges into light ; 

Henceforth it greets the shining sun. 

Has its completest life begun. 

So we are "worms", as born to earth, 

To grovel and to die ; 
Are creatures of ignoble birth 

Who in the grave must lie; 
From dust of earth the body came 
And back to earth we give the same. 

We lay the body 'neath the sod 
And earth reclaims its own, 

The soul has winged its flight to God 
To dwell before the throne ; 

For body time metes out its day, 

But soul takes wings and flies away. 



WINGS. 



O 



WINGS, O wings ! " such tiny things ! 
What need have such as you for wings 



WINGS. 13 

In your dark world consigned to dwell, 
Shut up within your prison shell ? 
Behold, we looked, and there one day 
The birdling's house in ruins lay ; 
And bird on wings away had flown 
To claim the azure fields its own ; 
Then knew what use these tiny things, 
When bird is chirping, "Wings, O wings!" 



Within the shell the birdling's wings 
Are prophecies of grander things, 
When it shall leave its narrow home 
In larger fields henceforth to roam, 
To soar above, and upward fly, 
Henceforth its home the broad blue sky, 
And join the winged choir which sings 
In azure heights, "O wings, O wings!" 



The soul has wings, not tiny things ; 

It sings within, "O wings, O wings!" 

Its fetters will not always bind. 

Its fuller freedom it will find. 

Its aspirations lift it high, 

Its hopes reach far above the sky. 

Anticipations and desires 

Of larger realms which it requires. 

Are prophecies that soul shall be 

Released to immortality ; 

Are wings which unto souls are given 

To wing their way from earth to heaven. 



14 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

THE ''IMPOSSIBLE:' 

" The things which are impossible with men, are possible 
with God." — Luke xviii : 27. 

"\17'HEN tale of brick was doubled, Moses 
^^ came, 

In strength of only one eternal Name, 
By which the sea divides at touch of rod. 
For there are no impossibles with God. 

The crisis reached, nor left e'en hope forlorn ; 
It's then that always are God's happenings born, 
For something surely happens grand, sublime, 
As God's events keep pace with march of time. 

Extremities and times of helpless need 
To God are opportunities indeed; 
Man's "cannot be," and, "all is come to nought," 
Is when God's greatest, grandest things are 
wrought. 

God's purpose moves at His commanding will. 
Though storm and rage and wreck the world 

may fill ; 
Disaster and defeat pertain to man. 
And not to God's all-comprehensive plan. 

Man's endings are where God begins anew. 
Where thrones are set which rule the ages 

through ; 
The pendulum to us moves to and fro. 
But in God's plan must ever forward go. 



RESIGN THE HELM TO GOD. 15 



Man, under sin's appalling, awful doom, 
Without one ray of hope amid the gloom ; 
Then One appears who could for sin atone. 
And by the cross uplift unto the throne. 

We fly to Him in danger or distress. 

With whom extremes are special times to 

bless ; 
Seas shall divide, and all our bondage end, 
When Moses comes, whom God shall surely 

send. 



^^ RESIGN THE HELM TO GOD." 

OFT' times on troubled seas we sail. 
Through tempests wild, and wind and 
gale, 
Where billows overwhelm ; 
'Tis then the pilot takes command, 
And we but trust his steady hand. 
To him resign the helm. 

We cannot calm the stormy sea. 
Nor find a path by which to flee. 

At mercy of the wave ; 
E'en then we quietly repose 
Our confidence in one who knows. 

The pilot's hand to save. 

And when by life's wild tempests toss'd, 
And all seems given up for lost. 



16 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

E'en then we'll not repine; 
For faith discerns a pilot near, 
To quiet doubt, dispell our fear ; 

To God the helm resign. 

We cannot guide our bark at will ; 
Nor bid the tempest to be still ; 

Nor wield a magic rod ; 
But One keeps watch above his own, 
Along the paths to us unknown ; 

Resign the helm to God. 



RICH BECOMING POOR. 

'T'HE bird of the air has its nest, 
^ The foxes have holes in the ground, 
But place for the Saviour to rest 

Nowhere in the world could be found. 

Though coming from palace of God, 
As one of our kindred and race, 

His feet thorny pathways have trod, ' 
In sorrow His foot-prints we trace. 

They gave Him a cross, not a throne. 
Who came to redeem and to save ; 

Though heaven and earth were His own. 
They borrowed a place for His grave. 

None ever was rich as was He, 
In mansions and glories above, 



CHRIST AS SAVIOUR. 17 

Or poorer than He came to be — 
The wonder of infinite love. 

Then why should I murmur or pine, 

Whatever my earthly lot be ? 
If Jesus the Saviour is mine, 

Why fare any better than He? 

Than make others poor by my gain, 
Far belter enrich the world's poor, 

Not gainers but sufferers reign — 
These enter the wide-open door. 



CHRIST AS SA VIOUR. 

/^^HRIST Jesus came to seek and save, 
^^--^ From His intrinsic being, 
Not merely that the boon we crave. 

Or bliss of saints foreseeing; 
He, sent of God, a Saviour, came 
His inner nature to proclaim. 

The sun, because it is the sun. 

Is therefore ever shining. 
The better Sun, His course begun, 

A truer light divining, 
Not just illumes our darkened night, 
But is Himself our brighter light. 

The flower, because it is the flower, 
We see in beauty blooming; 



18 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And Christ the Lord revealed with power 

O'er sin, the world entombing, 
Himself is like to Sharon's rose, 
All grace and beauty here repose. 

Song birds, because song birds, they sing, 
They are not taught their singing; 

So, too, when "songs of glagness" ring 
Which joy to men are bringing, 

As age to age shall pass along, 

Christ is Himself the world's glad song. 

If saving men were just a task. 

And not His native craving, 
He might be weary when we ask. 

Or cease the work of saving ; 
But now He measures not the cost, 
Himself is Saviour of the lost. 



ABIDING LOVE. 

T^HOUGH unrequited was His love, 
^ Which Christ brought down from heaven 
above 
Among His own, unsought, 
Where works of grace He wrought, 
And truth divine He taught, 
And proffered love they met with hate, 
That love to them did not abate. 



ABIDING LOVE. 19 



He came to earth, the Prince of Peace, 

To weary souls to bring release, 
But in His world forlorn, 
To grief and sorrow born, 
They Him received with scorn. 

His goodness with reproach they pay, 

And yet His love turns not away. 

He healed their sick and raised their dead, 
They gave no place to lay His head ; 

His Sonship they disclaim. 

Deride His holy name, 

Put Him to open shame. 
Yet their reproaches He withstood, 
And went about to do them good. 

And when they thought, by treatment ill. 
To thwart the purpose of His will, 

His doing good arrest. 

And even Him molest, 

And be no longer blest. 
He still with pity in His eye 
Now turns away for them to die. 

He struggled up the rugged hill. 
Love's sacred mission to fulfil. 

And gave His life to save, 

Who never to Him gave 

So much as e'en a grave; 
Though all to Him ungrateful prove, 
For them abides unchanging love. 



20 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

SMITTEN ROCKS. 

WHEN the rock was once smitten by Moses 
of old, 
Then to Israel flowed, more precious than gold, 
The glad stream which leaped forth to the 

touch of his rod, 
Like the waters of life or the river of God ; 
And they clung in the hour of their thirst and 

their need 
To the rock which was smitten for blessings 

indeed. 

Thus when Calvary's Rock, to humanity's need, 
Had been smitten for us and for Adam's lost 

seed, 
Then the fountain was opened which flowed 

from that day 
For washing and cleansing our sins all away ; 
And the River of Life from the cleft that was 

riven 
Is still flowing for those who are longing for 

heaven. 

We must smite the great deep if its treasures 

unfold, 
And the mountains to yield us their treasures 

of gold ; 
E'en the flower must be smitten, rich perfume 

to yield, 
And the sap trickles down smitten trees of the 

field ; 



THE ROCK THAT BEARS. 21 

So the Rock of the Ages is smitten, and then 
Are the fountains of life ever flowing for men. 

So, too, hearts, like the rock, they are callous 

and cold, 
And they smitten must be if their treasures 

unfold ; 
When repentance and sorrow have cleft a way 

through, 
Then the waters of life may be flowing for you. 
For the Rock which was smitten your path 

will attend, 
A perennial fountain, in you to the end, 
And now, he who would never more famish 

and die, 
To the Rock of the Ages may evermore fly. 



THE ROCK THA T BEARS. 

TT bears, my feet are holding fast, 
^ And danger now is overpast ; 
From floating plank and spar and mast, 
I'm safely on the Rock at last. 
I struggled hard against the wave. 
From sinking to a sea-girt grave. 
Was held in Death's relentless snares, 
Until I reached '^ the Rock that bears." 

Life's sea is full of floating wreck ; 
Just yonder floats some little speck ; 



22 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And floundering in the deep abyss, 

To keep afloat we cling to this ; 

But still we float and often sink, 

And find but planks where rocks we think ; 

And, oh, the joy naught else compares, 

When we have reached ^^ the Rock that bears^ 

The soul has perils every hour, 

Is driven and tossed by tempest power ; 

Is only safe, 'mid tempest shock. 

Clinging to an Eternal Rock. 

This "Rock of Ages" stands secure. 

So long as life or time endure. 

Oh, may my soul, when time is past, 

Be on ^^ tJie Rock that bears'\ at last. 



IT LIFTETH ME. 

DENY thyself, and take thy cross, 
The great Cross-bearer spake ; 
No one shall ever suffer loss 
If he My yoke shall take. 

He bore the weight of woe and grief. 
All burdens thou hast known. 

And in His cross is found relief 
For burdens like our own. 

When sorrows whelm, and hearts are sad, 
And heavy is our night, 



SEEING THE INVISIBLE. 



The burden of the cross we add, — 
All burdens then are light. 

To me the cross so great appeared 

It lifted could not be ; 
I vowed to lift, but not as feared, 

Behold ! it lifted me! 

I bear the cross that lifteth me. 
Then all my sorrow sings, 

And duty by the cross we see 
Has weights, but also wings. 

To this dear cross of Christ I'll fly 
When e'en the body dies, 

And it shall lift me up on high 
Transported to the skies. 



SEEING THE INVISIBLE. 

DEYOND the farthest realms of space 
^ Which mortal eyes descry, 
Far regions fair in loveliness 

To spirit visions lie; 
The realms no telescope can find, 
As boundless as the reach of mind. 

Just at our feet in common paths 
Are deeps no plummets sound ; 
And problems there where'er we turn 



24 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Through which no way is found ; 
But into realms beneath, o'erhead 
Are we by spirit vision led. 

We see the fountain, not its source, 

Effects, but not their cause. 
See not the moving force behind 

All universal laws ; 
Not mind, but love interprets love. 
And soul, not sense, knows God above. 

The things unseen are, after all, 

The things which are most real, 
For all things seen must pass away 

And share earth's common weal ; 
But things unseen shall time outlast. 
When all terrestrial things are past. 

Be mine the inner sight, which looks 

Beyond the bounds of sense, 
Beholding things invisible, 

The soul's bright recompense. 
Through scenes of time, the things to see 
Of heaven and eternity. 

Be mine the vision uneclipsed 

By any darkened night 
Which sees through doubts, and griefs, and 
fears, 

With unbeclouded sight : 
Along the distant, untried way. 
The vision of eternal day. 



THE ARMS OF MV SAVIOUR. 



THE ARMS OF MY SA VIOUR. 

T FLEE to the arms of my Saviour, 
^ From folly, temptation, and sin, 
His arms are extended in mercy 
To take a poor wanderer in ; 

His arms of compassion upbore me. 
When sinking beneath the rough wave. 

Though storm and the tempest may rock 
me, 
His arms are extended to save. 

When mountains and cliffs rise above me, 
And deep may ring out their alarms ; 

When help not another affords me. 
He carries me safe in His arms. 

When darkness and night gather round me, 
E'en death shall not bring me dismay, 

Across the dark river He'll bear me, 
To Mansions which never decay. 



TAKE ME BY THE HAND. 

'T'AKE me by the hand, my Father, 
^ For I do not know the way, 
Night shades round me thickly gather 

Hold me else I go astray ; 
Many are the ills betiding 

Those who tread the way alone, 



26 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Many are the foes conspiring 

I would make Thy ways mine own. 

Toilsome is the way I'm treading, 

Hard and rough the drizzly night, 
Heavy are the mists o'erspreading. 

And my home is out of sight ; 
When I'm death's dark valley nearing, 

And approach the untried land, 
With the judgment day appearing, 

Take, O take me by the hand. 



THE HAND THAT LIFTS ME. 

\1 /'HEN the mountains of sin rose above me, 
^^ And I could not seek its bleak bights, 
Its dark shadows were falling upon me, 

And gathering the blackness of night ; 
Then a Hand took me over the mountains 

To my home which was far out of sight ; 

When I sank in the horrible dungeon. 

That horrible pit where I lay. 
When the terrors of death were upon me 

And nothing my fears could allay, 
Then a Hand underneath me upbore me 

To the brightness and gladness of day. 

When I'm sinking in death's gloomy river, 
And down in the surges I lie, 



THE LAMB IN THE MIDST OF THE THRONE. 27 



Then this Hand is extended to rescue, 
And lift to my home in the sky, 

'Tis the Hand of my Saviour that takes me. 
And will lift me to dwell upon high. 

Unto Him Who thus graciously saves me, 
From sorrow and sadness and sin, 

I will cling and in love He shall bring me 
Where never a sorrow has been, 

And where He at the door will be waiting 
To lift me a poor wanderer in. 



THE LAMB IN THE MIDST OF THE THRONE. 

JUDGMENT profound His ways surround 
J Whose throne is built on high, 
Justice severe and truth appear 

There throned within the sky. 
Still we approach, the sceptre own 
For there's a Lamb amidst the throne. 

His thunders awe, His holy law 

Presages fearful doom ; 
His awful might spreads pall of night 

From cradle to the tomb. 
But law and might are not alone — 
A Lamb is there amidst the throne ! 

•The guilt of sin our curse has been 
To sink us in despair; 



28 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

But God in love who rules above 

Assures of blessings there. 
He makes to us His mercy known — 
Now there's a Lamb amidst the throne. 

Now truth divine and love incline 

To greet the fallen race ; 
The way to God by faith is trod, 

And we may seek His face ; 
The Lamb once slain, will sin atone — 
And this the Lamb amidst the throne ! 

This love supreme is heaven's theme, 
While God is Sov'reign, King ; 

Love saves the lost, it pays the cost. 
The saints to glory bring. 

With heaven's throng in joy we own 

The Lamb once slain now on the throne. 



IN MY HAMMOCK. 

IN my hammock, stretched under the trees, 
I swing restfully fanned by the breeze, 
And quiet steals into my breast ; 
With spirit tired, weary and worn. 
And body with cares overborne, 
I swing me here safely to rest. 
For the ends of the hammock are fast. 
And their holdings securely are claspt. 



THE UPLIFTED VISION. 2U 

In faith's hammock my restless soul swings, 
Till in restfulness sweetly it sings; 

Here under God's sheltering care, 
Where cords of His love interlace, 
Which close me within their embrace, 
His peace and contentment I share, 
In faith's hammock which stretches across 
With ends fast to the Throne and the Cross. 



THE UPLIFTED VISION. 
Psalm cxxi., i. 

IWILL lift up mine eyes to the hills," 
The eternal hills of God, 
Where Omnipotence fixes His camp 

And angel feet have trod, 
And where treasures unfailing abound, 
As streams to Moses' rod. 

To the hills "from whence cometh my help," 

Whence all our blessings flow, 
As exhaustless as storehouse of God, 

In gifts which they bestow ; 
Which are ever sent down from their heights. 

To cheer the plains below. 

"I will lift up mine eyes to the hills," 

Your promise will not fail ; 
Ye perpetual mercies distil 

To dwellers in the vale, 



30 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And your clefts will a refuge afford, 
Whenever foes assail. 

Their is rest and repose in your shade, 

Where down the weary lie, 
And your streams they refreshing impart 

To vane3^s parched and dry; 
But for which both the fields and the flocks 

Would wither, parch and die. 

Ye lift up the low lands on your side, 

Else desert they would be ; 
Ye hold back the cold blasts which sweep down 

From out the Northern sea, 
To condense the cloud mists overhead. 

To scatter ram drops free. 

I now "lift up mine eyes to the hills " ; 

Not always thus 'twill be, 
For sometimes to the hills far above. 

From low lands I shall flee. 
And shall dwell in the height of the hills, 

Which now by faith I see. 



OUT OF THE DEPTHS. 
Psalm cxxx : i. 



OUT of the depths," deep and so profound, 
That line and plummet cannot sound, 
With yawning chasms dark and deep. 



OUT OF THE DEPTHS. 31 

Whose ragged walls are rough and steep, 
Where I abandoned, helpless lie. 
From depths, "O Lord, to Thee I cry." 

The waves and billows o'er me roll. 
To overwhelm my sinking soul, 
With gulfs beneath, and floods o'erhead. 
When heart is faint, and hope has fled, 
Here I am given up to die — 
Except as unto Thee I cry. 

The deeps of sorrow open wide, 
And I've no refuge where to hide ; 
I'm sinking in a darkened night, 
Not e'en a star appears in sight — 
On nothing now can I rely. 
But simply, Lord, to Thee I cry. 

The depths of sin, a fearful deep, 
No place secure to plant my feet — 
A dungeon drear, where souls are bound, 
To which no bottom hath been found — 
Thou only, Lord, canst rescue me. 
And from these depths I cry to Thee. 

Death's deeps are deeper than the grave, 
From which no human power can save ; 
No sound floats back to human ears, 
Nor reaches us to quell our fears ; 
All human powers will death defy, 
And unto Thee, O Lord, I cry. 



32 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

No depths so deep but Thou canst hear, 
And to my cry art always near, 
My anguish Thou hast caused to cease, 
P'rom deepest depths brought sweet release, 
From all these deeps hast set me free, 
When from the depths I cried to Thee. 



''THE SCARLET LINE IN THE WINDOW," 

THE Scarlet line in the window was bound 
By "Rahab the harlot" of old. 
Who when, by the spies she concealed ; 
Their purpose to her was revealed, 
Espousing their cause, she was told. 
This sign and seal, to the faith they had found, 
Should be a wall of protection around. 

The Scarlet line in the window, is seen 
A sign for the ages gone by, 
Wherever the altar is reared, 
Where God has been loved, or been feared ; 
In tent and the temple we spy ; 
The Scarlet line, which has evermore been 
To earth and heaven the signal between. 

From Calvary, till the ages decline, 
That Scarlet line signals the earth ; 
The sign which was set to the world 
Of grace and of mercy unfurled 
Of love which in heaven had birth. 



SHADOWS. 33 



And yet which here at humanity's shrine 
Was man's best heaven-sent offering divine. 

By Scarlet line in the window, should we 
Now signalour friends and our foes, 
Of faith in Christ Jesus the Son, 
Our seal to the crucified One, 
Though demons and men may oppose; 
The sign that His we shall evermore be 
Who lives and reigns to His people set free. 



SnADOWS. 

SHADOWS obscure lofty heights of the 
mountains, 
They fall across the deep valleys below. 
Over our paths through the fields and by foun- 
tains, 
Passing through shadows, wherever we go. 

Never a home, where no shadows are resting. 

Where there was never a sorrow or pain. 
Never a heart but some grief is distressing. 

Shadows have fallen again and again. 

Hopes are oft blighted, and lone and forsaken. 
Day has no sun, and night not a star, 

Friends we have loved from us have been taken, 
Many a mound casts its shadows afar. 



34 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

But, on our pathway, though shadows are fall- 
ing. 

Mists settle down and our visions obscure. 
Yet, through the mists silent voices are calling. 

Out from the realm of the blest and the pure. 

E'en through the shadows a form is appearing, 
Born of a glory which streams from above ; 

Shadows are lifting, the morning is nearing, 
Brightness is dawning of infinite love. 

Morning shall rise with no shadow or sadness, 
E'en from death's valley shall mists roll away, 

Out from the shadows, to sunshine of gladness. 
We shall emerge to the unclouded day. 



THE STORM. 

HARK ! the distant thunders roll. 
Blackness darkly drapes the sky, 
King yEolus takes control. 

Dashing angry billows high ; 
Ocean heaves, and heavens quake ; 
Terrors wake from far and near. 
Boding dangers such as make 
Bravest hearts to quail with fear. 

Storm in fury bursts at last 

With terrific cannonade, 
Thunderbolts are flying fast. 

Deep is calling deep to aid ; 



PEACE, BE STILL! 35 

Waves are dashing mad with rage, 
Tempests sweep the deep at will ; 

Only He can now assuage 

Who commands the waves be still. 

'Mid the crash of tempest's power, 

Terror strikes each soul with dread ; 
All that's left for such an hour — 

Deeps beneath and God o'erhead ; 
Now the billows o'er them roll, 

While the tempest wafts the cry : 
"Jesus refuge of my soul, 

Let me to thy bosom fly." 



PEACE, BE STILL! 

I N the tempest of life, when the mad billows 

A rage, 

And are toss'd by the might no power can 
assuage. 

When the storm-spirit seems over all to prevail ; 

And we ride our frail bark in the teeth of the 
gale, 

Even then there's a voice which commands to 
"be still," 

And the winds and the waves own His sover- 
eign will. 

When deep calleth to deep in the depths of the 

soul, 
All the waves and the billows may over us roll ; 



36 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

If through darkness and gloom shall appear the 
weird form 

Of the angel of night on the wings of the 
storm, 

Even then there's a voice which commands to 
"be still," 

And the winds and the waves own His sover- 
eign will. 

When without us foundations upheave and are 
toss'd, 

When our hopes have been wreck'd and all 
seems to be lost. 

When dark, ominous clouds come to blacken 
the sky, 

And the billows are lifting their crested waves 
high. 

Even then there's a voice which commands to 
"be still," 

And the winds and the waves own His sover- 
eign will. 

When the billows which beat on eternity's'shore, 
Which are heaving and surging and toss'd 

evermore, 
E'en the billows of death around us shall surge. 
They shall never my soul, no, no, never sub- 
merge. 
For e'en then there's a voice which commands 

to "be still," 
And these winds and these waves own His sov- 
ereign will. 



THE BOW OF PROMISE. 37 

THE BOW OF PROMISE. 

BRIGHTLY beams the bow of promise, 
O'er the land and o'er the the main, 
Telling of the Father's favor, 

That the floods ne'er come again. 

Lo, it arches heaven o'er us, 

See it stretch from zone to zone, 

And then circling far above us, 
Is the rainbow round the throne. 

Oh ! thou bow of gorgeous beauty, 
Spanning storm and tempest wild. 

Thou proclaimest peace and mercy, 
God and sinners reconciled. 

Thou art heaven's shining trophy 
To the tempest-tossed unfurled, 

An emblazoned crown of glory, 
God's own banner to the world. 

Thou dost span the deep dark river. 

To our home in heaven above. 
So that we cross safely under 

This triumphal arch of love. 



L 



THE PROMISE PA VED WA V. 

EAD me, O my Father, lead me. 
O'er the promise-paved way. 



38 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Which thy precious Word has told me 
Leads into the golden day ; 

Snares beset my footsteps ever, 
Dangers lurk turn where we may, 

But our footsteps falter never 
In the promise-paved way. 

Tiny footsteps need not linger. 

For we hear the Saviour say, 
"Suffer such," then bring them nearer 

Unto Him who is "The Way," — 
Bring us in life's early morning, 

E'er too far we go astray ; 
And establish all our going 

In thy promise-paved way. 

When temptations fierce assail us, 

When our day is dark and drear, 
With no other hand to help us, 

Let Thy friendly aid be near — - 
When we come to death's dark river. 

Then all doubt and fear allay. 
Bring us to Thy rest forever 

O'er thy promise-paved way. 



''SHOES OF IRON AND BRASS." 

r^ IVE me the shoes of iron and brass 
^~-*^ Such as to Asher given, 

For rocky steeps and mountain pass 



PATHWAY OF STARS. 30 



Upheaved and thunder riven. 
Not "silver slippers" can be worn 

And press such ragged way, 
Else mangled, bleeding, fainting, torn, 

We helpless, hopeless lay. 

Though rough and thorny paths be mine, 

If feet are shod secure. 
Our shoes will all the brighter shine 

For roughness we endure. 
From flinty rocks will strike the fire 

To light each rocky hold, 
We weary not, nor faint, nor tire 

For shoes will ne'er wax old. 

The path of life not often lies 

Through flow'ry beds of ease, 
Nor are we carried to the skies 

By some propitious breeze. 
By crags and peaks we onward plod, 

With thorns to pierce and goad ; 
Yet falter not with feet well shod 

For hardness of the road. 



PA THWA Y OF STARS. 

THE stars seem a pathway, by angel teet 
trod, 
From realms of the earth to the throne of our 
God, 



40 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Are footsteps of glory — a radiant way — 
From darkness of night to effulgence of day. 



We sometimes have wished, 'mid the world's 

cold and drear, 
This pathway of angels reached down to us 

here, 
And loosed from the earth, from its fetters and 

bars, 
To go to yon heaven by this pathway of stars. 



But why should I wish such a pathway were 

mine .■* 
For stars all about us effulgently shine 
To unclouded eyes, and with vision most bright, 
Illume all the way through the gloom of the 

night. 



Each promise of God is a star in our sky, 
To pave all the way to our heaven on high, 
They shine on our path through all darkness 

and gloom, 
E'en light the dark valley of death and the tomb. 

For "US they're a pathway lit up by our God, 
Inviting as ever by angel feet trod. 
Let down to the cot of the humblest below. 
By which to the throne of the Highest we go. 



THE REWARD OF FAITH. 41 

THE REWARD OF FAITH. 

" Well clone, thou good and faithful servant : thou hast 
been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over 
many things; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." — 
Matt. XXV : 21. 

\ 17 ELL done, faithful servant, the Master 
' ' will say 
To those who through life till the close of its 

day. 
Have watched and have waited His message to 

know, 
And then at His bidding been ready to go. 

They who have been faithful in little, as such. 
Are crowned by the Saviour as rulers of much ; 
And crowns which the Lord who is righteous, 

will give. 
Are waiting for those who shall faithfully live. 

He who when the harvests are already white 
Shall then with the reapers in reaping delight. 
Will back from the harvests come, bringing his 

sheaves 
And share such reward as the faithful receives. 

He who in "the good fight of faith" shall be 

found 
A victor, will be with the faithful ones crowned : 
For him who is pressing through life to the 

prize 
A "crown of life" waits to be his when he dies. 



42 WAYSIDE POEMS. 



" UNDER THE SHADOW OF HIS WINGS."" 

UNDER His sheltering wings, as spread 
Over each faithful servant's head, 
They safe shall rest; 
Never can harm, awake, asleep, 
Come to the saints whom God shall keep, 
Divinely blest. 

Never the pestilence, by night, 
Never destruction's noontide blight. 

Shall here invade ; 
Never shall sun, nor moon here smite, 
Those who of God are His delight. 

He is their shade. 



Rest and repose to them He brings, 
Who shall abide beneath His wings, 

No danger there ; 
He shields against incoming foes, 
He safely guards from earthly woes, 

For them will care. 



Under His wings, above we soar 
Where surging ills disturb no more. 

We mount, we rise, 
Lifted on high, the soul now sings 
God's woundrous grace, O wings, O wings, 

Beyond the skies. 



UPHOLD ME, SPIRIT FREE. 43 

" UPHOLD ME, SPIRIT FREE." 
Psalm li : 12. 

THE caged bi!;d in its prison confined 
Frets and chafes that release it may find, 
And when freed will on joyous wings fly 
To its kindred and home in the sky. 
So the spirit in bondage remains, 
Till from bondage it freedom regains ; 
Then heavenward joyously sings, 
As untrammeled as bird on its wings. 

Flame unloosed, ascending from earth. 
Seeks its kinship of heavenly birth ; 
Since it upward is born to aspire. 
Takes it wings to rise higher and higher. 
So the spirit, as born from above, 
Will not seek 'mid the earthly to rove ; 
It is born like the flame to arise. 
And on wings to ascend to the skies. 

May my spirit, above earthly things, 
'Not have given it fetters, but wings 
Like the bird which its freedom hath found, 
Like the flame which can never be bound. 
May the Father of spirits have care. 
And watch over me everywhere ; 
'Tis to thee, gracious Father, I flee 
With the prayer, " Uphold mc, spirit free.'" 



44 WAYSIDE POEMS. 



" THE WINGS OF A DOVE." 

OH, that I had the wings of a dove ! 
I would fly to the land that I love, 
And be at rest ; 
There are the summer lands. 
There are the angel bands, 
With whom the Saviour stands 
Among the blest. 

Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! 
I would fly to the mansions above. 

And be at home ; 
There are no sighs nor pain, 
No grief shall come again. 
For us shall rest remain. 

No more to roam. 

But the spirit already has wings. 
And above all terrestrial things 

May upward rise ; 
It is not born we know, 
To grovel here below. 
But toward heaven go. 

Its paradise. 

Since my spirit has wings I will fly 
To the place of my rest which is nigh. 

The spirit's home. 
To bring yon heaven near, 
We fly to heaven here, 



TORCH-BEARERS 45 

Where now it doth appear 
The kingdom come. 

Tired spirits and weary may come, 
And in Jesus find rest and a home, 

Till ills are o'er ; 
The spirit, seeking rest, 
May fly to Jesus' breast, 
And be supremely blest, 

Forevermore. 



TORCH-BE A RERS. 

"TORCH-BEARERS, lift your torches 
' high, 

And let them blaze against the sky. 
Let them illume the darkened mind. 

And henceforth shine for all mankind. 

The torches lit from heaven's flame. 
They blazen forth the glad acclaim 

That joy has come to this world's night, 
And earth awakes to new-born light. 

The torch of truth in heaven's name, 
Which love has kindled into flame. 

Will light the deeps, and shine afar, 
Beyond the reach of sun and star. 



46 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

To caverns dark and deeps of woe, 
The sunlight, starlight never go; 

By torches lit from Sun Divine 

Shall light to them be made to shine - 

The heathen groping in the night, 
The men benighted seeking light, 

Should us incite with torch in hand 
To compass both the sea and land — 

Your torches feed, let flames increase 
Till all from darkness find release. 

And flame of torch not fade away 
Till lost into eternal day. 



''THE BROOK IN THE WAY." 
Psalm ex : 7. 

HE shall drink of the brook in the way," 
As it glides from the hills through the 
vale. 
With its rippling of waters which play 
To the music of woodland and dale ; 
With the sunshine and shade in its breast. 
Giving thirsty ones solace and vest. 

"He shall drink of the brook in the way," 
Not of brooklets already gone by. 

For none ever their thirst can allay 

Of the brooks where they now are run dry. 



THE BEST I CAN. 



And it's better, the brook just at hand; 
Than the rivers of some distant land. 

"He shall drink of the brook in the way," 
The best blessings are those in our path, 

Not far over the mountains away, 

Not the blessings one craves, but one hath. 

Of the past and the future we think, 

Save of BROOK in the way may we drink . 

" He shall drink of the brook in the way," 
Even streams in the desert shall flow. 

They come into our life day by day. 
And we all their refreshing may know, 

Till we drink with life's pilgrimage o'er, 

From the river of life evermore. 



THE BEST I CAN. 

Xl/HEN springtime comes, to clothe with 
^^ green 

The earth, with grass and flowers between. 
What if the flower and blade of grass 
Should say, I naught can bring to pass, 
I'll not be miss'd in garden plot 
Much less in boundless acre lot .-' 

Not thus the grass and flowers conclude. 
Their noble mission to elude ; 
Each to their mission firm and true 



48 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Resolve the best they can to do — 
So carpet weave for earth to wear 
And breathe a fragrance on the air. 

What if the stalk of grain should say, 

All hunger I cannot allay, 

A child new born I could not feed, 

Nor keep from starving, one in need, 

I'll not be missed in harvest day 

Nor when the sheaves are borne away. 

Not thus the single heads of grain 
Conclude thus useless to remain ; 
But each resolves with all the rest, 
That it will do its very best. 
And so the harvest fields have waved 
By which from famine men are saved. 

What if the quarried building stone 
Should say, I've little strength mine own, 
To bear the weight of arch and wall, 
Its columns and its turrets tall, 
The little weight which I can bear, 
The stately building well may spare. 

Not thus each building stone will say ; 
But, I will bear the weight I may : 
Of all the weight each takes its share ; 
There's not a single stone to spare ; 
And so the building grand will rise 
By strength which every stone supplies. 



SOWING AND REAPING. 4y 

What if God's harvesters declare, 
He us from harvest fields can spare ; 
Or from the temple to His praise, 
Of living stones which He shall raise, 
That any stone can lose its place, 
And yet the building not deface! 

Not so God's harvesters when true. 
Or workmen doing best they knew ; 
They each resolve the best they can, 
For good of souls, for God and man ; 
And these are they whose work begun 
Will hear at last the words "Well done." 



SOWING AND REAPING. 

T^HE farmer reaps in harvest-day 
A From seed not saved, but thrown away ; 
From fields though rich, yet if not sown. 
Was never yet a harvest grown. 
They who in spring-time seed withhold. 
Because of drought, or heat, or cold, 
For them in summer-time appear 
No blade nor stalk, much less the ear. 

'Tis he who sows with lavish hand 
The seed which he has at command, 
In open field, or little nook, 
Or corners which some overlook, 
And not withholds the precious seed, 
Who plenty has in time of need ; 



50 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

To him who sows in early spring 
The summer will its harvest bring. 

So he who early maketh haste 

To cultivate the moral waste, 

Or cast abroad in open field 

The seed which better harvests yield, 

Shall nothing lose, but rather gain. 

And gather in abundant grain ; 

While who withholdeth more than meet, 

In harvest begs with naught to eat. 

The little nooks where seed is sown, 
And corners, if no fields we own, 
Will yield their harvest rich and fair, 
As open fields where reapers are ; 
And gleaners, who the sickle wield, 
Glean nooks and corners of the field. 
And who abroad their seed have cast. 
Shall share the harvest at the last. 

In sowing seed, what's lost we save, 
And best of gain is what we gave ; 
It's only seed we've stored away 
Increaseth not for harvest-day. 
Not what we have, but what we give; 
What we impart, not we receive ; 
Not what we shirk, but undertake. 
The record of our life will make. 

The seed which we cast in the ground. 
When harvest comes, again is found ; 



THE RISING, NOT THE SETTING SUN. 5] 

While what we saved at greatest cost, 
In harvest-time we'll count as lost. 
God gives us fields in which to sow, 
And He will make the harvest grow ; 
And you're enriched in harvest-day 
Not as you saved, but gave away. 



THE RISING, NOT THE SETTING SUN. 

T^HE sun behind the speaker's chair 
*■ In Independence Hall, when there 

The Continental Congress met. 
When ship of state was swept by gales 
And freedom trembled in the scales, 

Seemed just about to rise, or set. 

But when brave men, to do who dared. 
By vote for freedom had declared. 

And freedom had its race begun ; 
The bells rang out their gladsome peals, 
And freedom's chorus now reveals 

A rising, not a setting sun. 

If sun near yon horizon lies. 

The morning and the evening skies 

Appear the same to mortal sight. 
But in the East 'tis king of day 
Which makes itself a shining way. 

While in the West it sinks in night. 



WAYSIDE POEMS. 



Beside the fireside altar glows 

A sun whose light brings sweet repose, 

And rising to a glorious noon ; 
Or if its light is quenched, and we 
No welcome give its light, 'twill be 

A setting sun gone out as soon. 

Within the room where mourners weep, 
Or watchers their lone vigils keep, 

A sun shines through the rifted gloom, 
Illumes the path e'en to the grave ; 
While if we cease its light to crave 

It sets in darkness of the tomb. 

There is a Sun which rose on earth, 
Which gave to men a second birth, 

Whose rays a summer land beget : 
That better sun now shineth bright 
To eyes not closed against its light, 

And risen once, no more will set. 

Look toward the east, and not the west. 
Follow the sweet, benign behest 

Of rising, not of setting sun. 
And go not down in darkening night 
But into noon's effulgent light, 

And here's eternal day begun. 



ANGEL VISITANTS. 



GOD'S angels met the patriarch 
When on the dusty road, 



AXGKL VISITANTS. 



Not on the mountain height, 
Not in the shades of night, 
Not by dim vesper light ; 
They oft'ner meet us in the way 
Than in our fixed abode. 

They frequent not the quiet nooks 
Of luxury and rest, 

But where is service done, 
Where victories are won, 
Or some good work begun ; 
'Tis here God's angels often come. 
By them is service blest. 

If you the angels have not met, 
Oft' in the common way. 
If they come never more 
To shop and house and store 
Before your task is o'er, 
They will not come at evening time, 
At quiet close of day. 

No angel visits through the week, 
Then Sunday none are there, 
No angels where you pay, 
Then none where you shall pray ; 
And worship where you may. 
No angels come to you except 
You meet them first elsewhere. 

If you with angels dwell above 
They must with you dwell here ; 



54 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

If you do not below 
Their kindly ofBce know, 
Keep paths where angels go, 
With them no converse you will have 
In yonder higher sphere. 



A 



" THE ANGEL IN THE SUN." 

N angel standing in the sun," — in light 
Whose rays effulgent shine divinely bright — 
Proclaims a risen, new-born day. 
Which scatters shades of night away, 
And leaves for men unfurled 
Her banner o'er the world ; 
Ineffable her garments shine, 
Arrayed in robes of light divine. 

"An angel standing in the sun " — the sun 
Which rose on time before the world begun , 
And rose anew on that glad morn 
When in Judea there was born 
Earth's brightest diadem — 
The Christ of Bethlehem ; 

The brightest sun which ever shone, 
And with a radiance its own. 

The Christ of God — through vast creation wide 
A glory which shall evermore abide — 

Which glory now encircles round 

The head of him whom Christ hath crowned, 



THE CLOUDS GOD'S CHARIOT. 55 

Who stands in Jesus' name 

To light of life proclaim, 

Which through the world the ages run — 
"An angel standing in the sun." 



THE CLOUDS GOD'S CHARIOT. 

Psalm civ., 3. 

r^ OD rides upon the clouds, 

^-^ Though Him no darkness shrouds 

His coursers fleet ; 
The winds which sweep afar 
Are harnessed to his car, 
Like battle steeds of war, 

With winged feet. 

Below the clouds is night. 
Above with Him is light. 

The noon-day sun ; 
Here clouds shut out the day. 
His coursers seem to stray, 
But He knows all the way 

His coursers run. 

Beneath are terrors black, 
And storms are in the track 

Since clouds arose ; 
They clash with angry roar, 
Obscure the landscape o'er. 



56 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Above is evermore 
A calm repose. 

God's plans run to and fro 
Where winds and clouds can go, 

Both good and wise ; 
They compass far and near, 
As fully will appear, 
When we from cloudy sphere 

Above shall rise. 

Mysterious His plan, 
So far as we can scan, 

But He will guide ; 
He holds the reins in hand, 
The clouds will He comman 
His ways we'll understand ■ — 

The other side. 



CONSECRATED LIVING. 

GOD calls to thrones and seats of power. 
In this the world's propitious hour. 
To thrones which for ourselves we make, 
In deeds we grandly undertake, 
And seats of power, as wrought within, 
Where grace subdues our reigning sin. 

God calls for heroes — men of might, 
Of dauntless courage for the right — 



( ()ME UP HITHER 



Who at the front will do and dare, 
The thickest of the conflict share ; 
Where duty calls will fearless stand, 
And ready are to God's command. 

God calls for men who work and pray — 
Who make Omnipotence their stay — 
Who in mankind their brothers own 
And lift them upward towards the throne ; 
Who from high purpose never swerve 
And "greatest" are, in that they serve. 

God calls, not just for after death. 

But "kingdom come in earth,'' He saith. 

The conflict will be fierce and long 

Before the final victor's song. 

And whole of life in faith and deeds, 

Is God's demand for this world's needs. 

No soul is saved for its own sake, 
But in God's plan to undertake 
The coming of the kingdom, when 
The Christ shall rule in hearts of men ; 
Who thus are Christ's and not their own, 
Are who go up to highest throne. 



A 



COME UP HITHER. 

VOICE of loud and sweet acclaim 
Out from the highest heavens came, 



58 WAVSIDE POEM?. 

" Up hither come," and thou shalt kno'v 
Of judgments, which are to and fro, 
To compass earth and sea, before 
The Christ shall reign forevermore. 

"Up hither come," and thou shalt see 
That which must surely come to be, 
The web of providence unfold, 
God's plan and purpose for the world. 
And gates of heaven opening wide 
For Christ who cometh with His bride. 

"Up hither come," from lower plains 
Of flesh, and sense, and sordid gains. 
To spirit realms, and thou shalt learn 
The things of spirit to discern, 
Till voice is heard which calls its own 
To "come up hither" to His throne. 



^ SKY-LARK SONG. 

SKY-LARKS ascending sing. 
Not when with drooping win^ 
They downward fly ; 
From out these warblers' throats 
Proceed their sweetest notes 
Ascending high. 

Not when they sink, but soar 
Our spirits evermore 
Divinely sing ; 



THE TRUE LIGHT. 59 

It's as they upward rise 
To reach some higher prize, 
New songs they bring. 

When hope lights up the eye, 
There's singing in a sigh 

Of sweet release ; 
And music in a moan. 
When faith assures its own 

The perfect peace. 

When we from sorrow flee. 
No more a slave to be 

To sense and sin, 
Exchange our weights for wings. 
Soar toward diviner things, 

Our songs begin. 

When we go through the gate 
To highest soul estate, 

To sweet employ, 
Each one of all the throng 
Brings everlasting song, 

In realms of joy. 



THE TRUE LIGHT 



T^HE chariot of the morning 
A Rolls up the eastern sky, 
The hills and vales adorning. 



60 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And bidding darkness fly. 

None can conceive how drear 
The world would then appear, 
If no sunshine were here; 
But now her banner is unfurled, 
And hence a glory gilds the world. 

None can conceive the darker night 
If better sun sheds not its light ; 
With darkness everywhere, 
A night of deep despair, 
No ray of hope were there, 
The midnight of the soul, so deep 
That not a star its vigils keep ; 
To all the world were seeming 

A dark sepulchral tomb. 
Except this sun were beaming 
Upon the moral gloom 



No darkness like to moral night. 

And Christ the Lord is brightesi light ; 

Where deepest darkness lay. 

Where Christ arose, the day 

Dispelled the night away. 
He burst death's bands exultant, 

And left the grave unsealed. 
And up to Throne triumphant 

New Light of Life revealed ; 
And when the sun and stars decline. 
The Sun of Righteousness will shine. 



CHRISTMAS MORN. (51 

CHRISTMAS MORN. 

IT'S the glad Christmas morning; joy to the 
^ earth ; 

We greet it with garlands of music and mirth. 
We hail with thanksgiving the festal morn 

when 
Was the advent of peace and good will unto 

men. 
It was then that the gates of the world stood 

ajar, 
And through them there peered bright Bethle- 
hem's star ; 
Which lighted the cradle from which was 

unfurled 
The banner of blessing to all the lost world. 
It was then that the Saviour was born to the 

race 
By a matchless display of tht. infinite grace. 
T'was a wonderful stoop, down from yonder 

bright skies, 
But a stoop which encompassed humanity's 

rise. 
It was out in the lanes and che by-ways of sin 
He was seeking to gather the wanderers in. 
He went down the steeps of humanity's fall, 
Where sorrow and darkness were spread like a 

pall ; 
There to light up the vaults and the caverns of 

woe, 
And invite the lost race that they after Him 

go- 



62 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

His advent was sung by the angels above, 
And earth is still chanting His wonderful love. 
Now here in the world, where our Saviour has 

been, 
It is ours to be happy, as freed from our sin ; 
And as "Merry Christmas" one everywhere 

hears, 
May your "Merry Christmas" last all through 

the years. 

CHRISTMAS. Y. M. C. A. 

T^HE sun in splendor rose 
■^, Upon that Christmas morn, 
O er fair Judean plains 
When Christ to men was born. 
As shepherds watched that night, 
They met a glad surprise. 
While wond'ring in their hearts 
They saw "the Star" arise. 

That "Star of Bethlehem," 

The sages saw afar. 

And age to age proclaims 

This "Bright and Morning Star" — 

This star, outshines the stars 

Which heavenly courses run, 

'Tis light to all the world, 

The imcreated stm. 

It's Christ who is the light, 
That shines to darkened minds. 



THE BRIDGE OF SUNSET. 63 

To whom the Christ is born, 
The Christmas blessing finds, 
A guiding star for youth 
Till course of manhood's run, 
And o'er the night of death 
He is the rising sun. 

Then bring your holly wreaths. 
Let them with ivies twine, 
And crown with evergreen 
The matchless birth divine ; 
Around the cradled child 
Come join the angels song, 
And praises to the Christ 
Let earth and heaven prolong. 



THE BRIDGE OF SUNSET. 

T GAZED at the bridge of sunset, 

^ At parting of the day, 

When shadows through the portal, 

Were chasing light away ; 
And banner of the evening 

Which then was there unfurled, 
It,s redolence and beauty 

Flung out upon the world. 

A chariot rolled in splendor 
Enswathed in ambient flame. 

And flung star dust to cloudland 
Its going to proclaim ; 



G4 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And in its course new visions 
Against the sky unrolled 

In richest scintilations, 
Of crimson, purple, gold. 

Across this bridge is daydawn, 

The shadows left behind. 
They darken here to midnight. 

There only light we find. 
This bridge is to the pilgrim 

A glory festooned way, 
Emerging from the shadowy 

Into the cloudless day. 

Life's evenings have their sunset 

Which bridge the way afar, 
To realms of endless sunlight 

Needless of moon or star ; 
This bridge has for the ages 

By angel feet been trod, 
From earth it is the passage 

To presence of our God. 

If glorious thus the portals, 

What must it be inside, 
On through such gorgeous pathway 

To where the blest abide, 
The paradise of promise 

Which eye of faith has seen. 
Which lies just over yonder. 

With sunset bridge between ! 



MY SHEPHERD. 

Psalm Twenty-Third — Translation in verse. 



The Lord as Shepherd. 

Content. 

Repose. 
Contemplation. 

Restoration. 

Guidance. 
The Dark Valley. 

Provisions. 

Anointing. 

Super-aboundings. 

Unfailing Supplies. 
Home. 



MY SHEPHERD. 



MY SHEPHERD. 
Psalm xxiii. 

'T^HE Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. 
*■ He maketh me to lie down in green pas- 
tures ; he leadeth me beside the still waters. 

He restoreth my soul ; he leadeth me in the 
paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the 
shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou 
art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they com- 
fort me. 

Thou preparest a table before me in the 
presence of mine enemies ; thou anointest my 
head with oil ; my cup runneth over. 

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me 
all the days of my life ; and I will dwell in the 
house of the Lord forever." 



MY SHEPHERD. 
Psalm xxiii. 



'T'HE Lord is my Shepherd, I know, 
^ And surely no want shall be mine 
He leadeth where still waters flow, 
Where I in green pastures recline. 



WAYSIDE POEMS. 



My soul He restores when astray, 
And erring He seeks to reclaim, 

And into His own perfect way 
He leadeth for sake of His name. 

Death's valley and shadow to me 
Have nothing of dread or of fear, 

His rod and His staff they will be 
A comfort to me ever near. 

For me a rich table He'll spread, 
Though enemies pressing me sore; 

With oil He anointeth my head. 
And maketh my cup to run o'er. 

Thy goodness and mercy attend 
My path, and they shine on before. 

Where never these come to an end, 
I'll dwell in God's house evermore. 



THE LORD AS SHEPHERD. 
" The Lord is my Shepherd." 

^HE Lord is viy Shepherd,'' His flock He'll 
A defend, 

He furnishes shelter, on Him they depend ; 
He giveth His life that the flock be secure, 
That He by Himself may their safety assure. 

He watches about them to guard against foes; 
E'en lambs in His bosom may safely repose, 



THE LORD AS SHEPHERD. CO 

The sheep in the pastures protects against 

harms, 
He leadeth the sheep, the lambs takes in His 

arms. 

He knoweth His sheep and He calls them by 

name, 
With love and devotion forever the same ; 
And over the mountains, and out in the cold. 
He seeks the lost sheep till safe back in the 

fold. 

When lowlands are parched, and are barren 

and dry, 
To high tablelands where the green pastures lie, 
He lureth the sheep, and that none of them 

stray, 
With lamb in His arms for them leadeth the 

way. 

It's thus that for us from the world cold and 

drear. 
To lure us along to a lovelier sphere. 
Some lamb of our flock, in the arms of His 

love. 
From lowlands He takes to the highlands 

above. 

My shepherd divine, I will list to Thy call. 
To Thy loving arms in submission I fall, 
To guard me, and keep me, and shelter me, till 
In me Thine eternal love Thou shalt fulfill. 



WAYSIDE POEMS. 



CONTENT. 
" I shall not want." 

1 SHALL not ■zt/««/" — what e'er betide 
The Lord my shepherd will provide ; 
My prayer in vain has ne'er been said, 
"Give us this day our daily bread." 

Young lions lack, and hunger they, 
But they who their dear Lord obey. 
Who follow Him as shepherd King, 
Shall never want for anything. 

To him who on the Lord relies, 
There is no want but He supplies ; 
From least of those within His fold 
Not any good will He withhold. 

Want enters palaces and cot. 
Whatever be the earthly lot; 
In fairest homes it their abides. 
And wan and gaunt frequents firesides. 

It gnaws at vitals of the heart. 
At no behest will it depart, 
It preys on body, spirit, soul. 
Which yield to its supreme control. 

My shepherd will supply my needs, 
'Tis He who e'en the raven feeds. 
And He who giveth them their food 
Will not from me withhold what's good. 



REPOSE. 



All that I wish I may not share, 
Yet all I need will He prepare, 
My all in all in Him is found, 
Thus I have all thins-s and abound. 



" REPOSE." 
" He maketh me to lie down in green pastvu'es." 

T^HE Lord is my shepherd," for me will He 
^ caie, 

For me, He will ever green pastures prepare. 
When weary and worn, or when tired and 

oppressed. 
He makes me lie down in green pastures to 

rest, 
To keep me and feed me will He undertake. 
For rest and refreshment provision will make. 

The mountains though rough, and rugged, and 

drear, 
Are shelter and shade when my shepherd is 

near ; 
The desert though barren will smile as the rose, 
And hills they flow down with a quiet repose; 
Though lurid heat smite, and wild wintry blasts 

sweep. 
Green pastures He ever provideth His sheep. 

I feed on the word of His promise and grace, 
And sweet as the sunshine is smile of His face, 



12 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

I rest in assurance all good shall be mine, 
And never shall want for favor divine ; 
He'll keep me secure in the arms of His love, 
Until I shall feed in green pastures above. 



" CONTEMPLA TIONr 
" He leadeth beside the still waters." 

NOT where the waters angry roar 
And maddened waves break on the shore 
I'd linger on the brink; 
Not where is noise of rushing tide, 
Not by the raging torrent's side ; 
But where the gentle streamlets glide, 
My thirsty soul would drink. 

On mountain side, by limpid spring 
Which streamlets through the valleys bring, 

Here care and tumult cease; 
Where streamlets murmur soft and low, 
Down hillsides and through meadows go. 
And gently the still waters flow. 

The soul finds perfect peace. 

From noise and tumult of the mind 
I'd quiet contemplation find 

Beside the waters still ; 
And He my shepherd leads His own 
Beside still waters else unknown. 
Which spring from God's eternal throne, 

His purpose to fulfill. 



RESTORATION. 73 



'• RESTONA TIONr 
" He restoreth my soul." 

MY shepherd sought me when astray 
I h'd wandered from the fold, 
In forest wild and thorny way, 

And on the mountain cold. 
O'er hill and vale, and rocky steep, 
My shepherd sought His Avandering sheep. 

He found me bleeding, sick and sore. 

Where famishing I lay. 
And in His loving arms He bore 

The sheep which strayed away. 
Till by the blood-marked mountain track 
He came the lost sheep bringing back. 

Estranged from God and lost in sin, 

I wandered dark and drear. 
Assailed without, beset within, 

I found no helper near. 
Till held by His divine control 
My shepherd He restored my soul. 

'Twas He who rescued me when lost, 
When wounded came to heal, 

Who saved me at such fearful cost 
As deeps of love reveal : 

My shepherd who doth thus restore 

My soul will keep forevermore. 



74 wayside poems. 

" guidance:' 

"He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his 
name's sake." 

TN "paths of righteousness" I trace 
-^ The mysteries of God's rich grace, 
The paths which traversed o'er and o'er 
Will brighter shine forevermore. 

The ways of sin are hard to tread, 
By appetite or passion led, 
And be to evil thoughts inclined 
Is but enslavement of the mind. 

Death lurks in every sinful way, 
Whate'er its promise, brings dismay. 
While paths of righteousness increase 
In pleasantness, and end in peace. 

But paths of righteousness, as known. 

Are by disuse oft overgrown, 

Or narrowed down to human view 

So that they're found and trod by few. 

Lead me into these better ways. 
And lead me /« them all my days, 
Which must my highest good assure. 
For they see God whose hearts are pure. 

Thy paths not mine, I'd have in view, 
And all Thy walks and ways pursue, 
Thy nature more would I partake 
Forevermore "for Thy name's sake," 



THE DARK VALLEY. 



" THE DARK VALLEY." 

" Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of 
death I will fear no evil ; for thou art with me ; thy rod and 
thy staff they comfort me." 

T AM Hearing the valley where shadows 

■* o'erfall, 

Where the darkness and gloom are oppressive, 

and fall 
O'er the vale which the death-angel claims as 

his own, 
To be trod by each pilgrim, who enters alone. 

Yet while now to the valley I'm coming so 

near. 
And though gloomy the way, I no evil will 

fear, 
I will shrink not its danger, I'll dread not its 

shade. 
For my shepherd is there to afford me His aid. 

'Tis Thy rod and Thy staff which will comfort 
me there, 

Will support me and keep me, as ever else- 
where ; 

I will lean on Thy staff, and pass under Thy 
rod. 

Which assures of Thy watchcare whatever 
paths trod. 

I will walk through the valley, not iji it but 

through, 
Not as hasting and anxious the way to pursue, 



76 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

But as ready and willing when time is at hand 
To arise and depart when there comes the 
command. 

Even down in the valley, are prints of His feet, 
Who as conqueror went there, the last foe to 

meet. 
And thus opened the way e'en through death's 

dreary vale. 
And who guards the way through whatsoever 

assail. 



"■ABUNDANT PROVISIONS 

" Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mme 
enemies." 

WHEN e'er the Lord His feast prepares, 
And spreads His table wide. 
No other feast with this compares, 
Or can earth's wealth provide. 

He spreads His table everywhere, 

E'en in the face of foes, 
No turmoil or confusion there 

Though earth and hell oppose. 

In deserts He prepares a place. 
And there abundance grows, 

In wilderness, and by his grace 
It blossoms as the rose. 



ANOINTING. 



For me He spreads His table rare, 
And feasts me with His love, 

Assurance of what He'll prepare 
In feasts of His above. 



ANOINTING. 
" Thou anointest my head with oil." 

THE Lord is my shepherd," and also is king, 
And to Him as a priest all their high 
praises bring 
In the heavens above, where He lives evermore. 
Whom in glad adoration they fall down before. 

As a child of the highest redeemed by his grace, 
And among his blood-purchased ones given a 

place. 
In His kingdom, where though I may be but 

the least, 
I am made unto God as a king and a priest. 

He anointeth with oil, thus He honors His own. 
And uplifts to a place with himself on the throne, 
Like the dew upon Hermon, the perfume is shed, 
With the oil of anointing a crown to my head. 

The anointing with oil, is refreshment and rest. 
The expression of honor receiving a guest ; 
Then what honor the Lord has conferred upon 
me. 



78 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

When He thus condescends that His guest I 
should be. 

To enliven and purify, strengthen and bless, 
'Tis the oil of His grace I have meet to possess, 
For both honor and service that which I need 

most 
Is anointing of Him, the Christ gift. Holy Ghost. 



SUPERABOUNDINGS. 
" My cup runneth over." 

"T^HE mountain o'erfiows to the plain, 
^ Sends blessings to pastures below ; 
The ocean o'erflovvs in the rain 

Which waters the earth to and fro. 

The fountain o'erflows in the streams 
Refreshing the meadow and lea, 

The sun overflows in its beams 
To illumine the land and the sea. 

The trees in their fruits overflow. 
And foliage ample for shade, 

And fields in the flowers which grow. 
And grain which the harvest o'erlade. 

God's gifts are not grudging nor small. 
But followed with more and still more, 

His blessings increasingly fall 
Until my full cup runneth o'er. 



UNFAILING SUPPLIES. 79 



Though poor, He my want still supplies, 
And gives me a sense of His love, 

His storehouse is full in the skies 
Unfailing- His fountains above. 

The sources are up in the sky, 

Of blessings which spring from the ground, 
And like a well-spring from on high 

My cup shall with blessings abound. 



UNFAILING SUPPLIES. 

" Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days 
of my life." 

T^WIN guardian angels my pathway attend, 
To guide me and keep me, from dangers 

defend. 
They're Goodness, which we shall abundantly 

bless. 
And Mercy, to blot out the sins I confess. 
These follow me through all my pilgrimage 

ways 
And never forsake till the end of my days. 

If goodness and mercy I everywhere find. 
My cares and my ills I can then leave behind ; 
My hopes may be shattered, and cleave to the 

dust, 
In goodness and mercy serenely T trust ; 
The "surely," is heaven's seal set to my heart, 
That these, needed blessings to me shall impart. 



80 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

They follow, not lead, that I may not presume, 
They go not before, but my journey resume 
Through changes which seem are my lot every- 
where, 
And goodness and mercy are sure to be there; 
And so I will sing of the angels which come 
To attend all the way of my pilgrimage home. 



HOME. 
" I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." 

NOT plenty nor pleasure, is want of my soul, 
Not earth with its treasures though I 
have the whole, 
Not places of ease and emolument, where 
I may with the highest of earth have a share. 
Not that amid palaces here I may roam, 
The want of my soul is the dwelling at home. 

The house of the Lord is a place ever dear, 
For there unto me will His glory appea'r. 
The glory already revealed in His son. 
And which He will give every sanctified one, 
Where life is let out to its fulness of joy 
Its truest fruition, which has no alloy. 

A sense of His presence to me giveth rest, 
His love in my soul is the sweetest behest. 
To sit at His feet and His praises to sing- 
Is better than dwell in the palace of king. 



HOME. 81 

And better than all that this world can afford 
Is dwelling forever in the house of the Lord. 

It's my Father's house, and the mansions are 

there, 
Provided for many, and furnished with care, 
For all who are cleansed in the Lamb's precious 

blood 
And robes have been washed in the deep crim- 
son flood, 
Who come from afar, from the east and the west 
Forever to dwell, be not merely a guest. 

Here gather all those of the family name, 
From sickness and suffering and sorrow they 

came, 
Though nothing of these they bring with them 

along. 
But chanting triumphant and thanksgiving 

song. 
And while all the years of eternity roll 
The house of the Lord is the home of the soul. 

Some rooms of the house we may enter e'en 

here. 
And graduate thence to the loftier sphere. 
So large His estate as the universe wide. 
And where is His presence there I may abide; 
On earth and in heaven His anthems I'll swell. 
Forever in house of the Lord will I dwell. 



82 WAYSIDE POEMS. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



THE BIRTH OF MUSIC. 

\^7HEN God His rich gift would bestow 
'^ ' On mortals who dwelt here below, 
He sent the good angels to bring, 
On joyous and rapturous wing, 
A cheering and joyous surprise — 
The music which gladdens the skies. 

When through the wide heavens they flew, 
They music distilled as the dew, 
And dropped their melodious notes 
Down into the plumed warblers' throats ; 
And thence through the woodland there rang 
The songs which the forest birds sang. 

They scattered their melodies sweet. 
Which mortals catch up and repeat ; 
Which melodies never depart, 
But play upon strings of the heart, 



TAE BIRTH OF MUSIC. 83 

Which vibrate in tones of the voice 
To make all within us rejoice. 

They swept with the sweep of their wings 

The harp with its varied strings ; 

With psaltery, viol and lyre ; 

And melodies, such as inspire 

The soul when in transport it sings, 

Awoke thence to play o'er the strings. 

By zephyrs they sent lullabys, 
And thunders resounding the skies, 
Which softened and blended, resound 
In cornet, and trump, the world round. 
And thousands of pipes in each clime 
Sweet melodies wake through all time. 

They floated along on the breeze 

Through branches and boughs of the trees, 

A plaintive and pensive refrain. 

Each leaflet prolonging the strain ; 

And boughs are pressed down by the breeze 

Like organist pressing the keys. 

They breath on the fountains and rills. 
And rippling of music distils 
In gladness through meadow and lea, 
Till lost in the roar of the sea — 
These all send the chorus along, 
Till earth is a harvest of song. 



84 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

WHA T SUMMER BREEZES SA Y. 

T WANDERED 'neath the forest trees, 

A The temple nature made, 

Where leafy branches danced and played, 

And spread their welcome shade, 
Where nature's happy voices tune 

Their sweet and joyous lay ; 
And listened there that I might hear 

What Summer breezes say. 

They seemed to chant a lul-la-by, 

As when I was a child, 
When o'er my cradled infancy 

An angel stooped and smiled, 
And by her lul-la-by caressed. 

My troubles soon were o'er; 
And now my spirit lulled to rest, 

I seemed a child' once more. 

They seemed to waft the voices sweet 

Of loves, of hopes, of fears, 
Of joys, and griefs, and friendships dear. 

Of all the distant years ; 
And sweeter still those other notes 

Which greet me anywhere, 
The plaintive voice of long ago, 

That of my mother's prayer. 

Upon my head her hand seemed laid 

As in my childhood days. 
As by her side I used to kneel 



WHAT SUMMER RREEZES SAY. 85 

And learn of wisdom's ways ; 
I felt the warm tear on me fall 

Like drop of early dew, 
And words seemed whispered in my ear, 

That I be good and true. 

They waft me messages of peace 

From those I used to prize 
In childhood days, and who have passed 

To world beyond the skies ; 
There seems to float among the trees 

The sound of angel's wing, 
And footsteps of the angel bands 

Which their glad tidings bring. 

The rushing wind comes sweeping down. 

And boughs rock to and fro. 
They sway, and bend, and quake, and break, 

As trees are bending low; 
And speak of conflict, discord, strife, 

Which sometimes seems to reign. 
Till maddened winds have spent their strength 

And peace has come again. 

The summer breezes whisper rest 

To spirits worn with grief, 
And into hearts where troubles dwell 

They waft a sweet relief; 
And Oh ! the songs I used to hear, 

Their echoes wake once more, 
I seem to hear them float along 

As from far distant shore. 



WAYSIDE POEMS. 



VIOLIN— ITS ORIGIN. 

'T^HE song of the birds with their notes full 
A and free, 
While rocking and swinging in boughs of the 

tree, 
At morning and evening, and all the day long. 
Have freighted the air with melodious song, 
'Till soul of the tree has caught up the refrain. 
And birds may depart, but their songs still 

remain. 

The music of zephyrs which iloat on the breeze 
Like organist fingers which dance o'er the keys. 
And melodies sweet as the whispers of love, 
Or music of angels sent down from above. 
Will linger with boughs of the tree intertwined, 
Till music in heart of the wood is enshrined. 

The rustling of leaves from the falling of rain, 
And dancing of sunbeams with gorgeous train. 
The sweep of the wind with a song in its wings 
Through boughs of the tree like a harp with its 

strings. 
And cataract roar like the organ's grand swell, 
Come into the wood by their spirit to dwell. 

The brook as it glides gaily singing along. 
With boughs overhanging to catch up the song. 
And voices of bright, happy children at play. 
And ringing of bells which are heard far away. 



WINGED FEET. 



All, all of these notes though far they may roam, 
Come back to the heart of the wood for a home. 

The heart of the wood, as the years have gone by, 
Has treasured these melodies never to die, 
Until there is plucked from its wooded retreat 
The body and soul of all melodies sweet, 
And all of these notes as by magic begin 
Again to resound in the weird tnolin. 



WINGED FEET. 

TTEAVILY trample steeds of war, 

■^ -^ Which shake the earth with their treac 

Marshaling hosts are heard afar 

And fill the nations with dread ; 
But through the din are, soft and fleet, 
Noiselessly moving winged feet. 

Ruthlessly crowds surge to and fro 
With conflict, tumult and strife; 

Merrily others come and go 
In all the revels of life; 

But here and there we chance to meet 

Noiselessly moving winged feet. 

They may not be in stately hall 
With gilded trappings around ; 

Nor yet in mansions great and tall 
Where wealth and comforts abound ; 



WAYSIDE POEMS. 



More oft we find in lane and street 
Noiselessly moving winged feet. 

Quiet as comes the morning light 
Which brings the beautiful day ; 

Softly as falls the shades of night 
Our cares to banish away ; 

So come sometimes to lone retreat 

Noiselessly moving winged feet. 

Lightly they climb the garret stair, 

Enter the cottager's door 
Bringing relief against despair, 

Enriching homes of the poor. 
Welcome these give, with joy replete; 
Noiselessly moving winged feet. 

Charity maketh no display ; 

No sound of trumpet it brings ; 
Light are its tasks, be what they may. 

Burdens to it are as wings ; 
Heaven and earth conspire to greet 
Noiselessly moving winged feet. 



MOUNTAIN PA THS OF LIFE. 

BY crags and peaks, through sleet and snow, 
The pilgrim toils along his way, 
The road is rough which he must go. 
And yet he maketh no delay ; 



MOUNTAIN PATHS OF LIFE. 80 

Up rugged steeps, with dangers rife, 
Over the mountain paths of life. 

Sometimes he'll reach a quiet glen, 
Shut in from beating wind and rain, 

Some little nook find now and then. 
Where quiet shelter he can gain. 

But even here he cannot stay, 

Must over mountain paths away. 

The paths are winding interlaced. 
Sometimes are thickly overgrown. 

And not a footprint can be traced. 

Nor guide is there for paths unknown ; 

But on he struggles, none tne less 

The mountain paths of life to press. 

He climbs the cliffs, and fords the streams, 
Through deep ravines, to dizzy height ; 

E'en though no cheering prospect gleams. 
And no retreat is there in sight. 

He with his journey's end in view, 

Must mountain paths of life pursue. 

The distant summit he descries. 

Through rifts in overhanging clouds. 

With quickened pace his steps he plies, 

Though night shades fall, and mist enshrouds, 

And falters not thus vision led. 

The mountain paths of life to tread. 

Beyond the mountain is his home. 
Which he by eye of faith has seen. 



90 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And reaching, he no more will roam, 

Though now the mountain lies between ; 
And over there he's home at last, 
When mountain paths of life are past. 



CONTENT. 

IF ycLi have not tiic things you like, 
Then learn to like the things you have 
Content, you'll never win, 
'Tis something born within ; 
It is not having things you like, 
But rather liking things you have. 

If what you want you cannot have. 
Then do not want it ; thus to crave 

What you cannot possess, 

Thou then than this art less; 
Your resources to make life glad, 
Are what you have, not wish you had. 

If you great means cannot command. 
Then use the means you have in hand ; 

The mite in use to-day, 

Than treasures stored away. 
Is better for the world's estate. 
And better in God's estimate. 

True freedom is the mind's consent 
With present lot to be content ; 
Who shares soul liberty 



THE ANGEL OF THE STORM. 01 

Must in himself be free ; 
And little with the mind at rest, 
Outweighs the world with mind distress'd. 



THE ANGEL OF THE STORM. 

'T^HE angel of the storm 
^ From out of the sky came down ; 
I could not see her form, 

She seemed to wear a frown : 
She clothed herself in cloud 
Which wrapped her as a shroud. 

She paused in middle air. 

And when her chariot stayed. 
Terrific thunders there 

Poured forth their cannonade, 
And mortals quailed with fear, 
She pitched her tents so near. 

The tempest in her way, 

As she went sweeping by. 
Bowed forests to its sway 

And swept the earth and sky. 
And spread abroad a gloom 
Like darkness of the tomb. 

Her steeds were quick of pace 
And soon were out of sight, 

And though she hid her face, 
Her garments now were bright, 



92 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

New beauties were unfurled, 
New glories gild the world. 

There's fragrance on the breeze, 

And fields have brighter green. 
New songs are in the trees, 

New heaven and earth are seen. 
And a sweet peace abides, 
Now that the storm subsides. 

We thought a demon mad 

Was riding through the air. 
Till now assurance had 
Of angel bright and fair. 
For now could we espy 
An angel had passed by. 



SUNSHINE. 

THE morning throws open its gates, 
And sunshine illumines the world. 
To caverns the darkness betakes. 
Or into its limbo is hurl'd. 

Forth comes to the touch of the light 
All good and pure things of the day. 

While evil to darkness of night, 
From daylight is sleeking away. 

There's sunshine sufficient for all, 
For homes of the rich and the poor. 



SUNSHINE. 98 



For those in the stateliest hall 

And those who may dwell on the moor. 

There's none but a glory betide, 
Who with the glad morning begin 

The shutters to throw open wide, 

And let the bright sunshine come in. 

A sunshine like dawn of the day. 

In souls which it floods with its cheer. 

Will lift its dark clouds, and away, 
Dispel all its darkness and fear. 

Be doors and the windows unbarred, 
Obstructions be all cleared away. 

E'en walls be they battered and scarred. 
If chinks let come in more of day. 

Live not in dark cellars or tomb, 
Companions of darkness and night, 

And feasting your soul on the gloom. 
Shutting out every ray of the light. 

There is such a touch of sunshine, 

As makes the pure soul gleam so bright, 

It's redolence seems most divine, 
The kindling of Heaven's own light. 

The soul then illumes as it goes, 
And shines in the world like a sun, 

It scatters the night of our woes. 
And heaven on earth is begun. 



94 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

FARTHER FROM THEE. 

\17E sweep along on the railway train 
^^ Like a bird which cuts the air, 
Our iron-horse darting o'er the plain 

Like an arrow flown with care ; 
But one sad thought ever comes to me — 
Each moment bears me away from thee. 

How gaily, grandly we glide along 
Throughout all the live-long day, 

The hum of wheels our chariot song, 
As they bear us far away. 

But this one thought ever comes to me, 

Each moment bears me away from thee. 

Our iron-horse, with his breath of fire, 

And his neigh you hear afar, 
Will snort and prance, but will never tire. 

And his tread sets earth ajar. 
With lightning speed he now carries me, 
But carries farther away from thee. 

To him the gates of the setting sun, 

Open wide, are ready to swing. 
While after him flying chariots come, 

Like the birds with golden wing ; 
To me the vision might gorgeous be. 
Were not I carried so far from thee. 

Turn back, ye coursers, and speed your flight. 
From this land in which I rove ; 



UNCOVER THE HEAD. ().j 

However much which may here deHght, 

Not the one is here I love. 
Then bring me nearer, and henceforth be 
I ever nearer and nearer thee. 



UNCOVER THE HEAD. 

[In Paris I observed a custom peculiarly significant and 
impressive. Whenever the dead are borne along the streets, 
at their approach every man from prince to beggar, uncovers 
nis head; and the lifting of hats by the goers and comers 
indicates the position of the funeral march, whether it be the 
rich or the poor who are being carried to their burial. It 
would seem only suitable respect for the dead, were this 
custom everywhere to prevail.] 

SLOWLY the funeral car 
Bears onward the dead, 
The pale monarch is here 
In the form on the bier. 
At whose solemn command 
To the unexplored land 
A mortal is passing — 
Uncover the head. 

It may be peasant or prince 
That sleeps with the dead. 

What if beggar it be .-' 

So it might have been me ; 

Kindly bid him adieu. 

As once others may you. 

And while he is passing. 
Uncover the head. 



96 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

It may be stranger or friend, 

Or foe who is dead, 
To some it's a mother. 
Father, sister, or brother, 
Or a lover, maybe, 
Or some dear one to me ; 
For sake of whom kindly 
Uncover the head. 

Slowly the funeral car 

Bears onward the dead, 
He surrenders his trust ; 
He returns to the dust — 
When death marches so near 
That its calling we hear, 
Then pause and devoutly 
Uncover the head. 



THE MOST READ BOOK. 

OF all the books the v/orld can boast 
The books men scrutinize the most 
Is not of art, nor poetry. 
Not medicine nor alchemy, 
Not science, and not classic lore, 
Not romance with its legend store. 
Not travels o'er the land or main. 
Not logic which will rack the brain, 
Not lives of heroes, small or great 
On battle-field, in halls of State, 



THE MOST READ BOOK. 



Not law, nor yet theology, 
Philosophy, nor history. 
These may be spurned without a look, 
But all men read the pocket-book ! 

This is the book which most men crave. 

Would carry with them to the grave. 

Is all the book they learn to read 

To comfort in the time of need : 

This is their gospel and their law, 

From which they consolation draw ; 

They have no other creed than this 

To present or eternal bliss ; 

No oracle for them divines 

But Mammon which this book enshrines ; 

It is to them the "book divine," 

The "precious treasure, thou art mine." 

in pocket-book there may appear 
To earth's estate a title clear, 
A passport to Elysian fields 
Where magic wand some fairy wields, 
To heights of bliss and seats of joy. 
To happiness without alloy ! 

It is a book which most men prize ; 
But who alone on this relies 
Will find that minds of men aspire, 
And soul has aspirations higher 
Than they can apprehend who look 
Never beyond the pocket-book. 



98 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

There they will seek in vain to find 
True satisfaction for the mind 
When under weight of pain and grief, 
A soul from sorrows seeks relief; 
For conscience here is found no peace, 
From sin and guilt is no release. 
And though it lures to latest breath, 
No bargain can be made with death. 

The pocket-book — who read it well 
Will hidden meanings strangely tell. 
For these appear if he inclines 
To read the words between the lines, 
As orphans' tears and widows' moans, 
The cries of want, and dying groans. 
The tricks of trade, dishonest gain, 
With all their evils in their train ; 

Or otherwise, and this may be, 
Between the lines is charity ; 
The generous and noble deed. 
Like sowing of immortal seed. 
Which lives in every grateful thought. 
And is with heavenly fragrance fraught. 

The meaning of the pocket-book, 
If you just on the surface look. 
Is much the same in each and all; 
The deeper meaning you recall. 
And then appear the light and shade. 
And revelations strange are made. 



STARTING WHAT HE COULD NOT STOP. <)!) 

The " marks of trade " these books all bear ; 
But many pocket-books there are 
In which no contents can be found 
Beneath the lids in which they're bound 
As fiat as under weight of lead, 
Or 'neath an elephantine tread ; 
And empty, so that nought intrudes 
More than ideas in heads of dudes. 

Make not your library one book. 
Give this but just one little nook ; 
Put other volumes on your stand 
And have them ready at command, 
And learn true manhood is not made 
Just of commercial stock in trade, 
And you will find man's highest need 
Is not ]\isi pocket-books to read. 



STARTING WHAT HE COULD NOT STOP. 

A N engine flew at lightning speed, 
■'*■ Of curves and grades it gave no heed ; 
It swept the town and village by. 
And seemed all danger to defy; 
It quakes and shrinks, but never tires, 
As fed by its internal fires, 
And as it darts along its track 
No power is there to hold it back. 

The engineer had gone apace. 

And there climbed up into his place 



100 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

His little son who'd take a ride, 
And pulled the lever in his pride, 
Which starts the iron horse at will ; 
And gaily rode along, until 
He back the lever could not drop ; 
He'd started what he could not stop. 

They telegraphed both far and near. 
An engine loose, the track to clear ; 
It thundered on, a thing of power. 
Ten, thirty, sixty miles an hour — 
The boy turns pale, his hair on end. 
His death ride now the fates portend, 
Till steam is out and makes a stay 
On track some eighty miles away. 

That boy though grown to be a man, 
Forget that ride, he never can, 
And ever since he bears in mind 
If he to start should be inclined. 
Unless in ways he'd choose to go. 
He'd count the cost ; has come to know 
That better engine in the shop 
Than started what he could not stop. 



CRADLE SONG. 

SWING, birdie, swing, 
In the bough of the trees, 
There rocked by the breeze, 



THE BOOT-BLACK. 101 

Swing, birdie, swing; 
Sweetly the while ye shall rest 
There in your soft little nest. 

Swing, birdie, swing, 
Yon know naught of care. 
While kept safely there — 

Swing, birdie, swing; 
Soft zephyrs heard where yon lie 
Chanting their sweet lullaby. 

Swing, birdie, swing, 
There in your nest keep, 
And rock you to sleep ; 

Swing, birdie, swing ; 
He who supplies all our need 
Promises birdie to feed. 

Swing, baby, swing, 
Like birds in their nest. 
Where naught doth molest. 

Swing, baby, swing ; 
Over your cradle I'll keep 
Vigils for you while you sleep. 



THE BOOT-BLACK. 

A GENTLEMAN passing along through the 
street 
A little boot-black by the way chanced to meet ; 



102 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Said he, " Here's a chance, and, if so you 

incline. 
Now come, my good fellow, and give us a 

shine." 

The little boot-black very poorly was clad, 
His countenance pallid, so wan and so sad ; 
But quickly with pack he was down by his 

man. 
And brushes to pull from the pack he began. 

Just then came a bigger boot-black by that 

way. 
Told Jimmy, " Sit down," and then pushed 

him away — 
An outrage so great sure the gent could not 

stand, 
And so he at once took the matter in hand. 

He told the new comer to "clear out" and to 

"go," 
And not to outrage such a weak fellow so, 
" If bully you must then take one of your size. 
Such treatment as this one like you should 

despise." 

"Oh, no," said the fellow, "boss, sir, dat's all 

right, 
It's only for him I do it, honor bright ; 
In hospital more than a month he has been ; 
A sorry bad time that poor fellow has seen." 



THE BOOT-BLACK. 103 

• w 

"And now he's that weak for himself he can't 

shift, 
So we other fellows just give him a lift, 
The boys all give up all the change which they 

take 
On jobs which //f gets ; he has all that we 

make." 

"Do you really mean of the boys all you say? 
They all help along in this kind of a way?" 
"Yes, sir; when they ain't got no job, if has 

he 
They'll help, 'cause he ain't very strong, as you 

see." 

"But now what per cent of the cash is he 

paid ? " 
"Per cent, sir! I know not what 'tis you have 

said." 
"I mean of the money which you may receive, 
How much to yourself and to him do you 

give ? " 

"Now you bet your life, sir, I never take none, 
I ain't no such sneak or that kind of a one; 
I'd collar a feller e'en bigger than me 
If sneaking it on a sick boy such as he." 

"A pretty good fellow are you," the gent said. 
As he in the hand of the urchin then laid 
A quarter, and bid him that this he invest, 
Ten cents to himself, and to Jimmy the rest. 



104 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

« 

•'Can't do it, sir; it's his job." "Jimmy, see 

there." 
He threw him the coin, in a jiff was elsewhere 
To look up a job and to let us divine 
That other than boots this boot-black has made 

shine. 

If these little Arabs sometimes we thus find 
With such a big heart, so unselfish and kind; 
Beneath the rough surface if we could but go, 
Might not there be found much more good 
than we know .-' 



WHAT CLAMS TEACH. 

SOME things, as a man 
We'll do, for we can 
But clams, they can do 
More than some of you ; 
You chatter and sup. 
But clams can sJnit up. 

When we hear a man 
Haranguing his clan, 
Political speech. 
Or clergyman preach, 
Who after he rose 
Found no time to close; 
Then those in the pew 
Have thought if he knew 



WHAT CLAMS TEACH. 10.1 

As much as clams do, 
He'd sooner be through, 
Shut up for a spell. 
As clams do their shell. 

And when all around 
Are gossipers found, 
To gossip incline, 
On gossip who dine. 
Whatever there be 
Must have it for tea. 
By day their delight. 
Their solace at night, 
Who know more of you 
Than you ever knew. 
Your secrets can see 
And peddle them free ; 
Of them people say 
'Twill be a glad day 
When they to clams turn 
A lesson to learn, 
Put this in their cup. 
That "clams can shut up." 

Some men always boast 
Themselves a great host, 
Great deeds have been done 
All victories won ; 
Or if direful woe, 
Say "I told you so." 
A very great G, 
They scarcely can see, 



106 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

But capital I 

At once they espy. 

If they undertook 

To write in a book 

What only they knew, 

You could not read through. 

Why things have so long 

Been all going wrong 

Is, it's not agreed 

That they be in lead. 

But men will declare 

That them they can spare, 

With clams now to go, 

Till they as much know. 

They'll seem less as shams 

To shut up like clams. 

Some license employ 
To freedom destroy, 
They flaunt their red rag 
In place of our flag. 
They cry for free speech 
To dynamite "preach," 
And always berate 
The laws of the state ; 
Our homes they upheave 
And ruin achieve. 
To order and peace, 
All passions release, 
Ideas are a drouth 
Though plenty of mouth. 
If they here will stay 



WHAT CLAMS TEACH. 107 

Our laws must obey, 

Else hasten away 

Where bombs hold the sway, 

And crush everything 

Neath dynamite king. 

We've use for such gang 

Them only to hang. 

For them it is well 

To keep in their shell, 

By day and by night, 

Like clams shut up tight. 

Your talk will not pay 
If nothing to say. 
'Tis then you do well 
To keep in your shell. 
Things said, not unsaid. 
To mischief have led. 
To ope you begin 
Quite sure you'll fall in. 
The clam surely knows 
No harm if he close 
But danger is there 
If open he dare — 
You ought to know more 
Than clams have in store, 
Of wisdom or skill 
And may if you will. 
And wise you will be 
If you come to see, 
At least now and then 
For women and men. 



108 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

To shut up is well 

Like clams in their shell. 



" THE WHISKEY MADE HIM SICK." 

T^HERE was a man, of high degree, 
^ Who would a politician be ; 
To business he was not inclined. 
So turned to politics his mind ; 
But found to this he could not stick, 
Because "the whiskey made him sick." 

"You must," quoth he, "this much admit, 

I have sufficient brains and wit, 

Enough at least to calculate 

A living at the crib of state. 

And not be caught by cunning trick, 

If whiskey did not make me sick." 

He could withstand the hardest knocks. 
Unmoved amid terrific shocks ; 
Upon the stump could make a speech , 
Of different minds agree with each ; 
Among the "boys" was he a "brick," 
Except "the whiskey made him sick." 

And so they lost a statesman rare, 

Of which not many they can spare. 

Who might have served if they would think 

To mix not politics with drink ; 

But now from others they must pick. 

Because "the whiskey makes him sick." 



TIME'S CHARIOT. 10! 



TIME'S CHARIOT. 



'X'lME'S chariot, with coursers fleet, 
A Of winged manes and winged feet. 
And lightning flashing in their eyes, 
Out from the gates of morning flies. 

Old Father, Time, with locks adrift, 
And mantle which the breezes lift. 
And float like streamers in the air, 
Serene, severe, with courage rare. 
As not among earth's heroes found, 
But only with the gods abound, 
He holds the reins, is charioteer. 
To through a new made world career. 

A wreath of clouds the steeds surround, 
On cloud-paved way no footfalls sound, 
No rumbling's heard of chariot wheels, 
Silently on its way it steals. 
And mighty wrecks which fallen lay. 
Are but the dust along its way 

The grandest works of man on earth, 
To which his genius giveth birth. 
The works of art, of human skill, 
What e'er the mission they fulfill. 
The temples which majestic, grand. 
Rose as by touch of magic hand. 
And monuments which grandly stood, 
Of valient deeds of brave and good. 
The armies led by heroes brave, 



110 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And navies tossed upon the wave, 
The cities with their flocks of men, 
And tribes and kindreds none can ken, 
And thrones upturned and scepters lost, 
Behind its wheels are swiftly tossed. 

Thus Time flies on at winged pace, 
Like some strong giant for the race ; 
There's nothing can obstruct his track, 
He takes e'en railways on his back. 
Electric flash by lightning hurled 
He trails behind him through the world. 

As in his flight his course along. 

He leaves the years like castles strong. 

Each castle with twelve stately courts, 

With thirty columns strong, like forts, 

Each column's twice twelve cubits high, 

The castle towering toward the sky, 

From which there greets our wondering eyes. 

Turrets which for each moment rise; 

These all will perish at the last. 

And crumble down as time flies past. 

Along the lines of human thought. 
In systems which have come to naught. 
The furrows through the nations run, 
Since wars and conflicts first begun. 
The avenues of grief and woe, 
To new-made graves where mourners go, 
The wrinkles down the human face, 
And writhings of the human race. 



TIME'S CHARIOT. Ill 

We have the course of time portrayed, 

For these are grooves which time has made. 

Old Father Time, the aged sire, 

With swift winged steeds that never tire, 

Flings days and weeks and years aside. 

And with his mantle spreading wide. 

Swoops down to fold in his embrace, 

All things pertaining to the race, 

And rushes on by night and day, 

Nor looks behind him in his way. 

As if his piercing eye could see 

Through open gates — eternity. 



112 WAYSIDE POEMS. 



SPECIAL OCCASIONS. 



ON THE BE A TH OF A PASTOR. 
IN MEMORIAM. 

SERVANT of God from yonder Jieight, 
Aglow with Heaven's effulgent light, 
Where thou hast stood, as years have run 
Like angels standing in the sun ; 
Their coming we could not delay 
And angel bands caught thee away. 

Thy spirit kindled from above. 
Thy deeds were such as born of love, 
Thy faith the ways of Promise trod 
And held thee fast to throne of God| 
Was such as other hearts inspire, 
And lifts the souls of others higher. 

When bowed in grief around our dead, 
When we the marriage vows have said, 
Thou hast uplifted us in prayer. 
Hast counselled us, of us had care ; 
Art beckoning now, as here we plod. 
To far eternal hills of God. 



TO MY MOTHER — EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY, 113 

Thou wast a shepherd of the fold, 
And led the flocks to fields untold, 
To shady nooks from noontide glare, 
By waters still, in pastures rare; 
Now up the cliffs hast led the way, 
Where greener fields and pasture lay. 

Servant of God, thy work is done. 
Thy battles fought, thy victories won : 
But though in yonder brighter sphere 
Thou still art living with us here, 
Works thou hast wrought to men belong, 
And these will pass all time along. 

Fond memories to us remain, 
A legacy we glad retain, 
Thankful to follow him below 
Toward heaven above to which we go. 
Where kindred spirits meet once more, 
Not lost to us, but gone before. 



TO MY MO THER — EIGHT IE TH BIR THDA V. 

r^EAR mother, best of gifts from heaven, 
*-^ Which God to us in you hath given. 
We bless thee on this gladsome morn, 
For eighty years since you were born. 
And bless our Lord here on this day, 
That He hath led you all the way. 
Through joy and griefs, and loves and fears, 
To fill up all these eighty years. 



114 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Not oft a course so long is run 

Before is reached the setting sun, 

And, as you've passed the noontide bright, 

Now may your evening time be Hght. 

Our aged sire still by your side 

As when you stood his youthful bride, 

And like the interlacing vines, 

The old-time love still intertwines ; 

And children bless the nuptial vow, 

Which made two hearts as one till now, 

And one so long, they one must be 

In time and in eternity. 

We bless the name, most blessed of earth. 
Of her to whom we owe our birth ; 
The voice to us the first to hear 
Which spoke away our every fear. 
And lulled us into sweetest rest 
As in her arms we were caressed. 
The hand which we have felt till now 
As clasped in ours and on our brow ; 
The form which o'er our cradle bent 
Like some good angel God had sent. 
And by our side when sick and faint, 
Surrendering to love's constraint, 
Now bent with age, though firm of will, 
We bless our God she's with us still. 

There's not a child but calls Thee blest. 
And prays for everything that's best 
To lighten all the weight of years. 
Release from sorrow and from tears, 



MISS JESSIE COUTHOUI. lir 

To make your last days brightest, best, 
Till God receives you into rest. 

Of all your four score years now run, 
Heaven and earth will say "Well done," 
You've sown in many a harvest field 
And now rich promise may they yield. 
In many sheaves of golden grain 
To crown your years which yet remain ; 
And when the angel reapers come. 
And there is heard the "harvest home," 
One sheaf, at least, they'll bear away 
To harvests of Eternal day. 



MISS /ESSIE COUTHOUI - 

Miss Jessie Couthoui, the young and gifted elocutionist, 
had a grand birthday reception given by her friends at her 
home in Englewood, near Chicago, May 29th. Six hundred 
of her friends from various towns and cities, especially her 
home and Chicago, gathered and not only attested their 
appreciation of her in words spoken, but in many elegant 
and rich birthday presents, and in what the papers represent 
as one of the grandest receptions ever given in or about 
Chicago. Among the congratulations sent by those who 
were unable to be present were several from ladies and 
gentlemen of national reputation who have admired her gifts 
and genius. Among the letters received was a poem by Rev. 
Dr. J. B. Smith, which we copy from the Chicaf^o Tribune. 

TO MISS JESSIE COUTHOUI. 

JUST eighteen years ago to-day, 
^ If we believe what others say. 
It was a glad, auspicious morn, 



116 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

For it was told, "A child is born." 
The mother well remembers all, 
Though you may not the scene recall ; 
Yet all traditions since declare 
That you must surely have been there. 

'Twas then some bright, effulgent star 
Shone down from its blue depths afar, 
Where then the cradled infant slept, 
And evermore its vigils kept, 
Till its own spirit interblent 
With infant soul which God had sent, 
And from that cradle shone afar 
A bright and an effulgent "star." 

Now eighteen years have passed away. 
And star full-orbed shines bright to-day ; 
Its course still upward we may trace 
In beauty, brilliancy and grace. 
Where multitudes bow at its shrine. 
And own a gift almost divine. 
The child of then and now the samp, 
Who from the cradle stepped to fame ; 

Whose magic voice the passions thrill, 
And holds and sways all hearts at will ; 
Whose artist-finger sweeps the keys 
Of all the soul's deep mysteries — 
In characters most manifold 
Her genius and her gifts are told ; 
Not one as chosen from the rest — 
In each her gifts appear the best. 



GOLDEN WEDDING. 117 

God bless thee, Jessie ! many say 

On this eighteenth auspicious day, 

May many years be given you, 

With all that's noble, pure and true ; 

And all your powers may you retain, 

And all the wealth of goodness gain ; 

And may your star more brightly shine, 

Enswathed in radiance divine, 

And ever in ascendant rise 

Till it shall shine beyond the skies. 



GOLDEN WEDDING. 

JUST fifty years have passed away 
Since you each other wed, 
How swiftly since that bridal day 

The fifty years have sped ; 
God's providence on you hath shone. 

His gracious hand has led, 
And ne'er in vain before His throne 
You've said, "Our daily bread." 

Together struggling up the hill 

Of life's uneven v/ay, 
With loving hearts you've journeyed till 

You've reached this golden day. 
You've known the bliss which joy imparts, 

Life's raptures and its tears, 
And kept within you trusting hearts, 

The hope of ripened years. 



118 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And yet by "silver threads" entwined 

"Among the threads of gold." 
And furrows down the cheek you find 

That you are growing old. 
Your sickle in God's harvest field 

Has reaped in precious store, 
And seed you've sown will surely yield 

Harvests forevermore. 

The children who were born to you 

Will keep your mem'ry green, 
And with affection's garlands true 

Would crown you King and Queen. 
And now we cheer you on your way 

Another fifty years. 
For blessings on you we will pray, 

For freedom from all fears. 

Just fifty years ago you wed, 

Just fifty years to-day, 
" Yon two are one,'" the preacher said. 

And so you've held your way. 
The ties of love which bound you then 

To-day are golden thread, 
And these will never break till when 

You're numbered with the dead. 

May golden be your walks and ways 

Until your journey's done. 
May golden be your sunset days, 

And golden crown be won ; 



G. A. R. FLAG PRESENTATION. 110 

May good increase with growing years, 

Enriched as you grow old, 
Till each at heaven's gate appears, 

Then walk the streets of gold. 



C. A. K. FLAG PRESENTAriOX TO THE PUBLIC 
SCHOOLS. 

LJ AIL glorious banner ! thou flag of the free ! 
^ ' Which floats the proud emblem of our 

liberty 
O'er land of the pilgrims, the best of the 

earth, 
And which to the nation gave freedom its 

birth. 
'Twas here that the banner was early un- 
furled. 
To float on free breezes defiant the world ; 
Was lifted aloft on that glad natal morn, 
When justice and freedom to nation were 

born ; 
And floated on high with its stripes and its 

stars. 
In seventy-six, when by red hand of Mars 
'Twas born in the struggle for freedom and 

right. 
Till victory waved o'er oppression's dark 

night. 
On red fields of battles, a hundred or more. 
Through carnage and blood 'twas baptized 

.o'er and o'er. 



120 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Defended by those, who its honor to save, 

As planted in homes and in hearts of the 

brave ; 
To life and to fortune have added their all, 
For freedom and country went forth to its 

call, 
Though carnage and death they must each of 

them face. 
That lessons of freedom might spread through 

the race. 

That flag floats to-day, it is lifted on high, 
Before which oppression and tyranny fiy ; 
It rallies brave hearts which are loyal and 

true. 
Who'll aid and defend it, its victories through ; 
The banner which millions are sworn to 

defend, 
Who'll honor those vows faithful unto the end ; 
'Twill ne'er be insulted, but sons and their 

sires 
Will leap to avenge it from altars and fires ; 
Who'll dare "haul it down," it's of him not 

forgot 
What millions repeat : " Shoot him down on 

the spot." 

The flag has been born through the carnage 

and strife 
Of conflict assailing the national life ; 
The hand that uplifts it though death may 

assail, 



G. A. R. FLAG PRESENTATION. 121 

The colors are never in dust left to trail, 

But others aloft lift the standard, and so 

Again it is borne in the face of the foe. 

Sometimes, in the din which fierce battles pro- 
voke, 

It is lost to the view, being hid in the smoke. 

But smoke clears away, and through men who 
can dare, 

Though shattered and torn, the old flag is still 
there. 

And so it was borne, till from war came 

release. 
Which flag has since floated the banner of 

peace. 
These battle blows falling, so heavy and oft. 
Have each been but lifting the banner aloft; 
Have planted it deeper than ever before 
Where higher 'twill wave o'er the land ever- 
more. 
With those faithful sons ever loyal and true 
To swear by the red, by the white and the blue, 
Whose hearts were as brave as were any that 

beat 
Beneath stars and stripes, or a foe went to 

meet, 
Were those by whose favor most worthy of note, 
The flag from our temples of learning shall 

float ; 
That flag which leads civilization's advance. 
And freedom of thought and of soul will 

enhance, 



122 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Proclaiming release from the thraldom of mind, 
And blessings of peace and of hope to man- 
kind. 

In state and society "knowledge is power," 
And learning and virtue a nation's high tower, 
And so from our temples of learning shall be 
Flung out to the breezes our flag of the free. 
That flag will respect of the nations command, 
x'Vnd yet it protects every home in the land. 
Insures every citizen freedom and right 
Enforced by the strength of the nation's great 

might. 
And freedom it gathers in every fold. 
Of which it gives promise to millions untold. 

Again we will wave the proud banner on high. 
Where busy throngs haste, and the wild 

breezes sigh, 
From cot of the peasant and temple's high 

dome, 
Wherever a freeman has found him a home. 
Which banner shall float o'er the land and the 

sea, 
Be hailed evermore as the flag of the free. 



" WELCOME POEM." 

Read at the National Division S. of T, of North America, 
at Buffalo, N. Y. 

A A 7'ESTERN New York swings wide her gates 
'' ' To welcome guests from other states, 



WELCOME POEM. 123 

Under our own or British laws 

Who make with us a common cause 

Against a wily hellish foe 

Whose footprints track the world with woe. 

Here where the lakes have kissed our shores, 

With wealth of commerce at our doors, 

Here where grand old Niagara stands, 

The mighty wonder of all lands, 

Whose deep and grand majestic bass 

In nature's orchestra we trace, 

Like thunder's peal and ocean's roar, 

When storms are breaking on the shore ; 

Here in this city where we stand. 

Among the fairest in the land. 

Where men are found of noble parts, 

Well-balanced heads and largest hearts, 

Men who will stand and never flinch, 

Nor rum power give a single inch ; 

A city where, if rightly named. 

The buffaloes have all been tamed — 

We welcome here the men of might, 

Those who do battle for the right ; 

The temperance banner keep afloat 

In regions near and far remote, 

Antl bring out all their heavy guns 

In doing battle for the Sons, 

Who curse the alcoholic king 

Whose reign blights every lovely thing. 

For 'tis this mad'ning drink 
Which plunges down the brink 
Of ruin and of woe 



124 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Where all lost spirits go. 

Tis rum that gets us "high"; 

On this you may rely — 

So high that dangling feet 

Can't navigate the street. 

The rum-fiend gets us "tight", 

Then holds us in his might, 

As most of those know well 

Who in our prisons dwell, 

As also many more 

Who hug the bar-room floor, 

Or tightly hug some post. 

And think it is ^' mein host". 

Rum sets our house on fire. 
Kindles all base desire, 
Robs pockets for its pay 
And steals the brain away; 
Puts demons on the throne 
To reign in us alone, 
Whose little imps we spy 
At windows of the eye. 
And with no time to lose 
Get snakes into our shoes, 
W^here all those in its train 
Have liquor on the brain ; 
Among whom is "mein Herr", 
Who " mit " his lager beer 
A walking barrel goes, 
Bung at both eyes and nose ; 
And those whom brandy slings 
Upon his back and sings. 



WELCOME POEM. 125 

"I've got you for a prey," 
Will feast on you some day. 
And whisky punches strong, 
Punch many more along. 

But there's an army true, 
Of red and white and blue. 
And as they march along. 
We catch their notes of song. 

Should e'er cold water be forgot, 

And we drink rum and' wine; 
Should e'er cold water be forgot, 

The beverage divine .■* 

Should the viy deary of our choice 

Be just Madeira wine.'' 
Then in the deira you rejoice 

Which mocks that soul of thine. 

And have we not now ails enough 

To brewers' ale ignore .■* 
And have we not r\o^N pains enough 

To drink cliavi paign no more .-' 

And since we've cobbling had enough, 

Let sherry cobblers be ; 
And if you'll not be handled rough, 

No whisky punches see. 

For they will punch your coat with holes 
And openings at your toes; 



126 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And just look out where rum controls, 
For bloody eyes and nose. 

All hail to the men who our banner on high 
Unfurl to the breeze against the blue sky ; 
That banner which signals to those who are 

lost 
By passion enthralled, or by tempests are 

tossed. 
Enslaved by the demon rum ever enthrones, 
And under whose curse humanity groans, 
Which signals them hope and deliverance at 

last 
If only our colors are nailed to the mast ; 
Who carry this banner amid the world's gloom 
And thus from its deserts cause gardens to 

bloom ; 
Who plant it in homes in which sorrow is 

found, 
Where loves like the angels with thorns have 

been crowned. 
And hearts crucified, of all hopes are bereft 
Of all the old day-dreams no shadow is left, 
And cause the old joys of the good days of 

yore 
Come back to their hearts and abide evermore ; 
Who plant it in garrets and hovels of sin. 
And cause light and comfort and joy to come 

in; 
From wretchedness, poverty, sorrow and crime, 
Uplifting to heights which are grandly sublime; 
E'en plant in the gutter where carcasses lay, 



THE ISLE OF FRIENDSHIP. 127 

And for such a lodging give manhood away ; 
And forth from the gutter men spring to their 

feet, 
The folds of our banner in gladness to greet; 
The banner which over the fallen shall wave 
Until not a drunkard remaining to save. 
Together we'll join from Dominion and States. 
To battle the minions of rum at our gates, 
And vie with each other, like foemen of steel, 
To strike such fell blows as the demons will 

feel, 
Till heaven shall echo, the welkin shall ring. 
No more on the throne is Alcohol king ! 



THE ISLE OF FRIENDSHIP. 
A RE-UNION. 

'X'HERE'S an isle we have seen in the bright 
* summer seas. 

Which is fanned by the sweet zephyr's wing. 
With the fragrance of flowers and the fruitage 
of trees. 
And such music as seraphim sing. 

There are harbors where vessels may anchor 
them fast, 

Or may float on the water serene. 
But no vessel may enter except at the mast, 

There is some flag of truce to be seen. 



128 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

There no wild wintry blasts, on mad wings of 
the wind, 
In their furious ragings career, 
And there no blighting frosts of a winter 
remind, 
For the summer time lasts all the year. 

There invisible fingers touch strings of the 
heart, 

And they vibratevwith music divine, 
To the soul they the truest devotion impart 

And to kindliest impulses incline. 

There the bond of their union is love's silken 
chord. 

Which, though soft, is yet stronger than steel, 
It's a union of hearts of a kindred accord, 

Who a kinship of sympathy feel. 

There each to all other is faithful and true, 
All their joys and their sorrows to share. 

There they fellowship each with the other 
renew, 
All their mutual burdens they bear. 

It's the island of friendship which we have 
found. 
Which is swept by humanity's tide. 
Where no stranger intrudes, but true friend- 
ships abound, 
Which are sure to forever abide. 



THE ISLE OF FRIENDSHIP. Iz9 

It is many a story with which they beguile 

One another and love to relate, 
Of the people who dwell, and have dwelt in 
the Isle, 

And of all their own friendly estate. 

There David and Jonathan lived long ago, 

And friendship more true no one ever will 
know, 

The soul of the one to the other was knit ; 

Two lives which were fashioned each other to fit ; 

When Jonathan who was the son of a king, 

For his armour bearer chose child with the 
sling. 

E'en David; on him the king let his wrath fall, 

Though he'd interposed for the life of king- 
Saul, 

Then Jonathan sought the king's wrath to 
control. 

For David he loved as he loved his own soul. 

When Jonathan was from the battle-field borne. 
Then David went mourning as brother vvoulc 

mourn, 
And said: "He was pleasant to me to the last 
With love such as woman's love never sur 

passed." 

When David was king and Mephibosheth came 
A poor worthless cripple, in both his feet 

lame. 
Then David commanded that he should partake 



130 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

With him at his table for Jonathan's sake ; 

As kindness to Jonathan's house he would 

show, 
He now on this son will his favors bestow; 
And when seven men of Saul's sons must be 

slain 
Because of his oath which must ever remain, 
Which kindness to house of each other declared 
For Jonathan's sake was Mephibosheth spared. 

There Damon and Pythias lived we are told. 
In friendship not framed to the usual mould. 
When Damon by edict of king was to die, 
Would go to his kindred and bid them good-by, 
Then Pythias hostage for Damon became. 
What he was to suffer to suffer the same. 
Should he not return one certain fixed day ; 
And Pythias prayed that the Gods might delay 
His coming ; that storms might come sweep- 
ing his track, 
Or contrary winds be holding him back. 
Now Pythias calmly awaited his fate 
For time is expiring and Damon is late : 
The honor of Damon he seeks to defend. 
And glad that his life may yet ramson bis 
friend. 

Just then comes a steed as if seeming to fly ; 
'Tis Damon, who maketh the crowd to stand 

by, 
And Pythias grasps in a loving embrace, 



THE ISLE OF FRIENDSTI IP. 131 

While each for the other would die in his 

place ; 
Which King Dionysius seeing, declared 
For friendship like this both their lives should 

be spared, 
Also he with them would a covenant make, 
That into their friendship himself they would 

take. 

Orestes and Pylades oiice there abode, 

And friends no more true have the earth ever 

trode ; 
For when Iphigeria, priestess divine. 
Would offer in sacrifice them at her shrine. 
She proffered to one of the two a release 
Whichever would carry her message to Greece, 
Then each one insists that the other be sent, 
And each for the other will die with content ; 
And while each contends that the other go 

free. 
The priestess finds one her own brother to be. 
And sparing them flees Chersonesus once more. 
And hastens with them to their Scythian shore. 

Epaminondas and Pelopidas came 

To dwell in this Isle, who have passed into 

fame, 
For friendship which each to the other had 

shown 
Like two water drops which together have 

flown, 
On field Mantinea where other braves bled, 



132 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Pelopidas fell on the heaps of the dead, 
Then Epaminondas resolved he would die 
Then, rather than leave there the body to He, 
And wounded and bleeding he fought strongs 

and brave 
Till forces arrived to both rescue and save. 

There Paul and Virginia awakened to find 
Two lives were together becoming entwined, 
True children of nature in their solitude. 
With no artificial restraints to intrude, 
Each share in whatever the other befel. 
Like children of Leda dwelling in the same- 
shell. 

Virginia was offered position and gold, 

But love and devotion are not to be sold, 

And back to her home and embrace of her 

friend, 
The winds and the waves she thence bids her 

attend. 
And when she was wrecked off her sea-beaten 

shore 
Then Paul thus bereft he repined evermore. 
And after two months he was laid when he 

died. 
There in the church-yard by Virginia's side. 

There lived Jedediah and Suzanna his wife. 
With friendship that lasted throughout all 
their life, 



THE ISLE OF FRIENDSHIP. 1;« 

True love in their hearts very early was sown, 
Which into their lives had with passing years 

grown, 
Now he was a man with remarkable thrift, 
She always was ready to give him a lift. 

They climbed up the hill-side of life hand in 

hand. 
And each for true love could the other com- 
mand, 
And tottering down on the side of the west, 
Their love for each other grew strong in their 

breast. 
United in life, them death could not divide. 
And so down the hill-side they slept side by 
side. 

There lived young Gustavus and Molly, his 

mate, 
Whom he used to swing on the old garden 

gate. 
And when from the war he came wounded and 

scarred. 
With arms shot away and features all marred, 
She said : "If he's only a heart that is whole, 
And body sufficient to encase the soul. 
By him to the altar I'll gladly be led, 
Myself and my portion to him I would wed." 

And such was the kinship of feeling we found 
Of people who here in this island abound. 



134 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

The island where seeds of true friendship are 

sown, 
And friendships immortal are nurtured and 

grown. 



SCHOOLS OF THE OLD AND COMING TIME. 

OF the Schools of the past, and the future 
we sing. 
And not those of the time which is now on the 

wing ; 
Of the present we've learned to take care what 

we say. 
Lest we find us involved in some open affray 
With the men and the women of times which 

we speak, 
Who their summary vengeance upon us may 

wreak. 

But the past is gone by ; it is buried so deep 
That not any will rise from their quiet, long 

sleep ; 
And where death with its stillness unceasingly 

reigns. 
There is nothing to fear from their bludgeons 

or brains. 

Else I'd sing of the time that's away, by and 

by. 

Where our fancy can build its air castles on 
high, 



SCHOOLS OF THE OLD AND COMING TIME. 135 

Where is naught to disturb us by night or by 

day, 
And no winds to be blowing our castles away. 

Men will writhe when we speak of the sins of 

to-day, 
But applaud when we speak of the sins far 

away — 
We can say what we will of things distant or 

old; 
What is said of to-day must be carefully told. 

Thus the schools of to-day, it's not safe as you 

know 
For the Muses to sing, and they will not I 

trow ; 
So we now will go back to the goodly old 

times. 
And of these will endeavor to order our 

rhymes. 

And say not that we sing of which nothing we 

know, 
Of the realm where the Muses only may go. 
If I say that I lived in that time, I declare 
What you cannot deny, because you were not 

there. 



OLD TIME. 



The school house in which first I attended a 
school, 



136 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Was constructed of logs, without much use of 

tool, 
With but little of roof, for the chimney was 

large 
As would answer for any volcanic discharge. 

Through the cracks of the door any urchin 

could pass. 
While the windows were stocked with not 

overmuch glass. 
And so made as to rattle the boys into school 
When the teacher but tapped on them with his 

rule; 
And to ventilate well the full room for them all 
There had many a breach to be made in the 

wall, 
Then the benches were made of the hard side 

of planks 
Upon which the boys sat when not playing 

their pranks. 

The location had this to commend it as good, 
'Twas conveniently near an extensive birch 

wood, 
For birch was the order of school there 

maintained 
Though the block was in use when no birches 

remained. 
Only these two professors much mark ever 

made, 
But these both left their mark on the boys of 

all grade ; 



SCHOOLS OF THE OLD AND COMING TIME. 1:17 

There was only one rule they impressed on us 

there, 
But this rule was the one which applied 

everywhere, 
And that this we might thoroughly each 

understand. 
Had it often engraved on the palm of the 

hand. 
The schoolmaster was then the "high dud-. 

geon " all round, 
In his morals austere, in his learning profound. 

Of conceit he might have had at least a few 

grains. 
Was the sum of "par excellence" muscle and 

brains. 
He was skilled in the K's, all of which he 

could tell. 
He knew Reading and "Riting" and " Rith- 

matic" well ; 
He could cypher so far, or quite through, 

"rule of three," 
And to go beyond this would presumptuous be. 

He with all his attainments was yet very meek, 

As sustained on two shillings and sixpence a 
week. 

What he taught was according to rules as pre- 
scribed. 

Not on reason of things but on rules he relied. 

For the "whys" and the "wherefores" to 
rules he could look, 



138 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Really needed not brains, only needed the 

book. 
There were forty-four classes he heard through 

the day, 
And kept things in a whirl in a general way, 
Between classes his time in the dance he'd 

employ 
With his birch for a bow, for the fiddle a boy. 

He supported a cite nearly trailing his track, 
And ^Q placard \.\\t boys sometimes pinned to 

his back. 
He was much venerated wherever he went. 
For such prodigies then were supposed to be 

sent 
That the rest of poor mortals might thence 

understand 
How much depth of profundity some may 

command. 

When a teacher was hired the board was 

thrown in. 
And a good place to throw it was not £lny sin. 
Thus the stomach was quite as important as 

brain, 
For they each must be kept on continual 

strain. 
And for durance was there an expedient found, 
When from one to another they passed him 

around, 
And they thought him a sage when he entered 

the gate, 



SCHOOLS OF THE OLD AND COMING TIME. 139 

While he san-sagcs everytime that he ate, 

So that their implication might not be de- 
signed, 

Which at least is suggested to one of our 
mind. 

When he better had wait till their hogs had 
been killed. 

That one breed at a time was enough the same 
willed. 

Such were masters, but mistresses then were 

not rife, 
They so soon a big boy would be taking for 

life, 
By their diligence then would the pupil attain 
All the benefit which from such culture we 

gain, 
When a father from his little urchin would 

know. 
When a quarter of school he had left him to go, 
What he'd learned, he replied very well, let me 

see. 
Learned to stand on my head without feet 

'gainst the tree. 

And another reproved for his grammar's abuse, 
Replied, "Grammar! and that to z. horse, what's 

the use .''" 
They there learned long ago that "the chief 

end of man " 
Was ''the one with the head," and deny it who 

can. 



140 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

That it was the sunsetting which hatched out 

the stars, 
Which had strayed o'er the heaven when they 

left down the bars, 
And sometime they became quite perplexed on 

the hour 
That the mouth of the river might ocean devour. 

In their grammar they held all the cases some- 
how, 
The possessive is most we are holding to 

now. 
And the tenses they carried in full the way 

through. 
We commence: "I love, you love," but stop 

with the you : 
There was many a lesson thus learned in that 

age ; 
From these schools have arisen full many a 

sage, 
Who are sitting to-day in the high chair of 

State, 
In the pulpit and forum among the world's 

great, 
And these schools by the ones they once had 

in command. 
Are to-day the proud rulers of this favored 

land. 
And whatever is said of schools which were of 

old 
Never yet has their fullness of blessings been 

told. 



SCHOOLS OF THE OLD AND COMING TIME. 141 
COMING TIME. 

But we pass from these things of the goodly 
old time, 

And the future survey which is grandly sub- 
lime. 

With the "coming young man." who'll be 
nobody's fool, 

And the "girl of the future" is also the school, 

And of this, we this much at least may declare 

'Twill outvie all the past in its excellence rare ; 

And no longer to learning just simply will 
train, 

But supply the deficit of learning and brain ; 

Where the pupil no longer need study to learn. 

What is taught by machine, which the teacher 
will turn. 

You may put in a blockhead who not long 

remains 
To invest him in full with both learning and 

brains. 
For why is it that now all the handicraft sort, 
Should their labor to save to machinery resort. 
And release be thus given the laboring throng. 
And still learning be made to go drudging 

along. 

'Tis not thus it will be in the age which we 

mean, 
When the schools introduce the new learning 

machine. 



142 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

It's now — those who are blockheads will block- 
heads remain, 

And the teacher no knowledge can make him 
attain. 

But no teacher incompetent longer will be 

With machine then in use which the next age 
will see. 

Not to book, then to brain, but to this I'm 
inclined. 

The machine will do printing direct on the 
mind. 

Else some reservoir deep whose proportions are 

large 
Is the teacher himself, or is left in his charge, 
Full of wisdom and knowledge, no age could 

surpass, 
And conducted by pipes just as water or gas ; 
At the worst one has only to pump his supply 
From this fountain which no one will ever 

pump dry. 
And with learning so easy 'twill reach a high 

grade, 
And our dear little darlings be prodigies made. 
Then the best part of life will no longer be 

claimed 
To get learning enough for what little remained, 
But commencing at two they will graduate when 
They have reached to the age of not older than 

ten. 
And learning with them is acquired with such 

ease 



SCHOOLS OF '1"HE OLD AND COMING TIME. 14:] 

They can launch into whatever branches they 

please. 
They no longer need use just the rude Saxon 

tongue, 
Which the vulgar have used both the old and 

the young, 
So their own is ignored, and there's heard 

through the house. 
Only " parlez vcus Francaise " or " Nicht kommt 

eraus " — 
While to read and to spell, and the grammar to 

learn, 
To arithmetic and the geography turn. 
Would not answer the coming advance of the 

time, 
When the new "highfilutin " puts these far 

behind. 

Then the teacher will be in such confidence 

found 
That the parent will never essay to come round, 
To know what they are doing, the school that 

they keep. 
As they would if 'twere keeping but cattle and 

sheep. 
Then the lower grade schools will at length 

disappear. 
We of juvenile novices never more hear. 
Then will every school be a college in name. 
And our children will leap from the cradle to 

fame ; 
At least, thus it will be if our tendencies last 



144 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And we judge of the future by present and 
past. 

But the future's not here, and the past is gone 

by, 
And we just on the present alone can rely. 
Bring not up the dead past, nor the future 

bring back, 
But keep clear of my song and you're on the 

best track, 
Or just cling to the present alone, and in time 
You'll understand best what is meant by my 

rhyme. 



FOURTH OF JULY. 
SING SING PRISON. 

SEE, the flag of our country floats proudly 
to-day, 
'Tis the day of Columbia ; hie it away, 
Let it float from the hill-top, from turret and 

dome, 
From the citadel, workshop, the temple and 

home, 
O'er every freeman in all of the land 
To proclaim that in honor a freeman may stand ; 
And fling out in defiance against every foe 
Who 'gainst freedom and right have dared aim 

their fell blow, 
And was carried triumphant through blood and 

through strife, 



FOURTH OF JULY. 145 

Of the carnage of conflict for national life ; 
Which to freedom secured her a name on the 

earth 
To be exiled no more from the place of its birth. 
But the theme is too large to be put into song, 
Else my muse would grow weary her notes to 

prolong, 
Thus to sing of the things which our country 

can boast 
In its range from Pacific to Atlantic coast ; 
Of its lakes, and its rivers, its mountains, and 

plains. 
Of its forests and mineral wealth it contains, 
Of its commerce, its railways, its prairies and 

lands, 
Of its churches and schools, and the wealth it 

commands. 

It's not such a great country my muse now 

relates. 
It's ^rate country, as means, it's a country with 

grates ; 
It's a place which has bars, though nothing to 

drink. 
They are iron bars — bars not inviting you 

think — 
Where they're clothed and are fed at the public 

expense, 
And their bills are all paid to the very last 

pence. 
Where are sentinels watching without any 

charge, 



146 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

But is paid from the gen'ral exchequer at large, 

Where they're furnished with rooms which if 
wanting in Hght, 

Are not wanting in being remarkably tight. 

And if not quite so roomy as we'd have them 
be, 

There's one satisfaction the rent of them's free. 

It is not like some places of which we are 
told 

Where they strive by all means some position to 
hold; 

But a place which might suit politicians of late, 

For there's here none but who hold an appoint- 
ment of State. 

It's a place where their habits are all very staid, 
And where little of deference to fashion is 

paid. 
No concern about rising or falling of stocks, 
Or commercial upheavings or financial shocks. 
If provisions be high or be ever so low. 
It's all the same here howso'er the worlxl go. 
Dissipation is here much curtailed of its might. 
Where the boys all come home very early at 

night. 
By this time you must each understand the 

whole thing. 
The discourse of my muse is "Hotel de Sing 

. Sing"; 
Or, with equal propriety, others would say. 
It's the S/ale boarding Jioiise, where they board 

without pay. 



FOURTH OF JULY. 147 

Some suppose to be free is release fioni 

restraint ; 
It is such that our muse would be pleased to 

acquaint, 
That restraint is true freedom when made X.Q 

control, 
Any purpose of manhood in body or soul. 
As the kite is the freest when held by its string, 
Floating gaily 'mid clouds, like the bird on its 

wing. 

And as held to its moorings it rises on high, 
Swiftly speeding its way to its home in the 

sky; 
As the vessel is freest which speeding its 

flight 
Over billows and waves with their madness 

and might. 
Held by compass and helm to its course 

through the storm. 
While the rudderless bark is shipwrecked and 

forlorn ; 
So are we ever freest when 'mid the world's 

strife 
We are held unto some noble purpose of life. 
Not the freest from all of restraint the most 

free, 
There are slaves which are freer than masters 

may be. 
There is many a master with heavier chains 
Than the yoke of oppression which slavery 

maintains. 



148 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

There's no other such slavery as that of the 

mind, 
Or the slavery of passion to which it's inclined, 
You may fetter the body, oppress and deprave, 
There is nothing but mind which itself can 

enslave. 
The Apostle has given the saying we need, 
WJiom the truth shall make free is the free man 

indeed ; 
And himself such a freeman, none more so 

could stand 
Than the prisoner at Rome; though with 

chains on his hand. 
While he reasoned of temp'rance and judgment 

with power, 
'Till the Governor trembled as ne'er till that 

hour. 

You may fetter the body with fetters untold. 
But there's left us a freedom no fetters can 

hold; 
Such a freedom is found in the palace and cot, 
In the dwelling of wealth and in poverty's 

lot; 
In the free, open air, and the dungeon's dark 

gloom. 
Where the prisoner finds no release from his 

doom. 
It's wherever free impulses heave in the breast, 
And good feelings and thoughts in the bosom 

find rest ; 
Or wherever the truth in its excellent might 



FOURTH OF JULY. 140 

In the soul of true manhood controls to the 
right. 

It is thus, the great country my muse now 

relates, 
Oi', excuse me ! I mean this same country witli 

grates. 
Is a place from which feelings and thoughts 

may arise, 
Just as free as have ever saluted the skies. 
He asserts a true manhood who suffers and 

bears, 
Just as much as the hero who braves and who 

dares. 
And who uses the ills which he cannot assuage. 
Not as masters but servants his good to 

presage. 
He is free o'er misfortune, its ills and its woes. 
And is happy and cheerful wherever he goes. 
While the man who looks forward to some 

future day. 
When he'll fling to the winds all his bondage 

away, 
Will be likely this service to never begin. 
But continue his bondage and die in his sin. 

W^e've not merely to seek for the Heaven on 

high. 
But be making that Heaven which is now to us 

nigh. 
We may learn to "be true to each other while 

here," 



150 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

And be "luring the spirits of loveliness near," 
To be "bringing to us from the home in the 

sky" 
Such of "brightness and beauty" as "never 

can die," 
We may "cherish the noble, the pure and the 

true," 
Learn to "hold them as gems that are precious 

and few." 
We may learn in this place, often gloomy and 

drear. 
To speak only "in accents of comfort and 

cheer," 
And to seek for each other, from Him who's 

above, 
That He smile on each soul with the sunshine 

of love. 
Thus fulfilling our mission o'er all we are free 
In this prison as those in a palace may be. 

May our country remain as the home of the 

free. 
And for body and soul may that mean you or me. 
So that when we swing out from these nar- 
rower bounds. 
And to duty or danger the clarion sounds, 
With true freedom of manhood, untrameled 

with chain, 
We adhere to the right and all honor maintain, 
To the laws of our country with valor to stand. 
And the favor of earth and of Heaven com- 
mand ; 



DECORATION DAY. 151 

So that when the great day of all reck'ning is 

past. 
We may share the eternal free Heaven at last. 



DECORA TION DA Y. 

GOD'S hosts the Red Sea crossed of old, 
And back for them the Jordan roll'd, 
And there twelve stones by God's command 
A monument were made to stand, 
That children's children thus might know 
How God of old let Israel go. 

So little hillocks everywhere 
In this broad land so rich and fair, 
Hillocks which mark a hero's sleep, 
Whose vigils tearful sorrows keep, 
Where rest our brave illustrious dead 
For whom no requiem was said, 
Shall monuments forever stand 
While Freedom's home is in the land, 
And tell of seas which opened wide 
As Freedom's host advanced betide, 
And children's children by each grave 
Shall know the price it cost to save 
The Union and preserve the States 
United from the Gulf to Lakes. 

The dark war cloud o'er heaven a pall 
Its dreadful thunder bolts let fall, 
And struck the nation in amaze, 



152 ^YAYSIDE POEMS. 

Set hills and valleys all ablaze, 
And our brave men as true as steel 
Accepted war, the dread appeal. 

When treason armed her sires and sons 
And on Fort Sumter opened guns. 
They kindled ev'ry patriot's ire 
And set the northern hills on fire, 
While down the valleys armies tread 
With Freedom's banner overhead ; 
Then on the land and on the flood 
Heroic deeds were sealed with blood, 
And many sent their record high. 
Ready to do, to dare or die. 

Our flag was often shattered, riven, 

Our men to rebel pens were driven, 

Or for that flag we proudly trust 

They made their winding sheet the dust ; 

And through the battles' thickest fight 

There failed not men in strength of might 

To stand in breach which cannon made. 

And foe with nerve and steel invade, 

But blows of battle, quick and fast, 

The foul rebellion crushed at last, 

For 'twixt the millstones, Sherman, Grant, 

Confederates at length recant. 

And under these at length 'twas found 

Secession was to powder ground, 

And then our flag in triumph waved 

Over a nation once more saved. 



DECORATION DAY. 15; 

These battle blows lift it aloft. 
And these have fallen fierce and oft, 
Until henceforth 'twill higher wave 
O'er freeman's home and patriot's grave. 
The cannon's roar lull'd on the blast, 
And peace had come again at last ; 
The battle-scarred again came home, 
No more 'mid fire and blood to roam, 
While some were bleaching on the sand 
Who gave up life for native land. 



We honor those whose hearts have beat 
'Neath stripes and stars of battle's heat, 
Who stood 'twixt us and freedom's doom, 
And for us faced the cannon's boom, 
Whose strokes of battle cleft a way 
Through clouds of conflict into day; 
And nation now, with ken of seer, 
Is seen to start a new career. 
And we will honor all its brave 
Who nobly fought to country save. 
And cherish more than heretofore 
Its brave defenders evermore; 



Hallow the resting place of braves. 

Hold ever sacred soldier's graves, 

And thus this day we garlands bring 

And deck these graves with flowers of spring, 

To tell of spring when winter's o'er. 

Death's winter coming nevermore. 



154 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

He who lives nobly while he's here, 
Assures himself a loftier sphere; 
His deeds will live when he is gone, 
And ages walk the earth along. 

'Tis only once an age is given 

To strike a blow for fetters riven. 

Such blows as felt throughout the earth, 

And give anew to freedom birth. 

A hundred years were not so well 

As once for all to have thus fell, 

And in a cause which lives through time 

By making life grandly sublime. 

When duty calls or deeds require, 

In falling lift humanity higher. 

We linger round the soldier's grave 
And honor all our truly brave 
Who sleep to-day beneath the sod, 
Sacred to nation, them and God ; 
And name of father, brother, son 
Enrolled beneath our Washington, 
The grandest chieftain known to fame ;' 
And Lincoln, trusted, honored name; 
Whose lives and deeds, majestic, grand. 
Enshrine themselves in ev'ry land 
Where freedom-loving sons and sires 
Now by these names at altar fires 
Ascribe to freedom its new birth. 
And final conquest through the earth ; 
And then with these the heroes brave 
Who welcomed glory or the grave. 



DECORATION DAY. ir.r, 

Ready on battlefield to die 

To lift the flag of freedom high. 

To follow where the hero leads 
And thus to share heroic deeds, 
Is better far than just to be, 
With no footprints the ages see, 
And seeing may take note and say 
There has a man once pass'd this way. 

The widow who in sorrow weeps, 
A hero where the patriot sleeps, 
Is better far than live the wife 
Of some base coward all through life. 
And be a soldier's orphan child, 
Than into treason be beguiled, 
For till e'en freedom shall expire 
And none remain to light her fire 
Which on her altar burns to-day, 
A nation will her homage pay. 

We decorate the honored tomb 

With best and brightest flowers that bloom, 

Which garlanded with choicest care, 

Affection leaves an offering there, 

Tokens of love, the truest, best, 

For those who here so quiet rest. 

For others, too, we garlands weave, 
As those who have an empty sleeve, 
Or maimed or marred with many a scar, 
Which signal valiant deeds in war. 



156 WAYSIDE POEMS. 

Who left a hand or foot or eye 
On distant battle field to lie. 
For some their body scarce remained 
In which for life to be retained, 
Only enough survived such fate 
As to the missing parts relate — 
To these a nation homage pays, 
And at their feet its offerings lays; 
And ev'ry scar will earnest plead 
A nation's aid in time of need. 
For gratitude call evermore 
To those who strokes of battle bore. 

May we thus honor manhood given 

In striking blows that sound through Heaven, 

Till out we're mustered by and by, 

To grander army join on high. 

While feet of freeman lightly tread 

Amid the graves of martyr'd dead. 

And ever swear by man and God 

The soil by foe shall ne'er be trod. 



THE END. 




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